SELECT POEMS. 



BY 



HARVEY RICE. 




BOSTON: 
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 

NEW YORK: 
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 

1878. 



•^ 






Copyright, 1878, 
By HARVEY RICE. 



Franklin Press: 

Electrotyped and Printed by 

Rand, Avery, &> Co., 

Boston. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGS 

Unwritten Music ......... 7 

The Moral Hero 9 

Footsteps ........... 12 

Give us Light 14 

Recognition 16 

Who is She? i7 

The Stream of Time . 19 

Other Days 21 

Morning 26 

Warren's Appeal 28 

Heaven on Earth • . 3° 

The Visionary 31 

The Vain Request 33 

The Classic Land 35 

God's Finger-Mark . 37 

Long Ago 39 

The Mystery of Life 41 

The Celestial Visitant 47 

The Voyager 49 

Sympathies 51 

The Rainbow . . 53 

Departed 55 

The Far West . 56 

Worship 59 

The Queen of Night 61 

The Old Year 63 

To a Poetess 64 

The Zephyr .66 

3 



4 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Hereafter . . . . ... . . . 68 

A Particular Star 70 

Summer 72 

Mount Vernon 'jy 

WiLD Flowers 82 

The Inner Life 84 

Voice of the Pine 86 

Hymn to the Sun . . . , . . . . 88 

Innocence . . .' 91 

Enshrined 92 

The Birth of Beauty . , . . . . ■ . 94 

Her- Last Adieu 96 

Vernal Whispers 98 

In Memoriam 100 

Song of the Tempest . . . . . ' . . 105 

Man 107 

Ancestral Portraits 109 

The Realm of Thought 118 

The Music of the Rain 119 

Aspiration ^ . . 121 

Shadows 122 

A Vision of Light . 125 

Laura 127 

Song of the Dime . 130 

The Autumn Leaf ........ 133 

Laying the Corner-Stone 135 

Inscrutable 137 

Ever Vain 138 

Tacit Language 139 

A Conceit 141 

Lilies 143 

Home of my Youth 144 

More Space 150 

Earth's Lore 152 

Freedom . . , 155 

Notes 171 



SELECT POEMS. 



SELECT POEMS. 



UNWRITTEN MUSIC. 

There's music, music, everywhere, 

Whose artless notes are sweet; 
Anthems that hnger on the air, 
•• And in the calm retreat. 

There's music in the zephyr's sigh, 
And in the breath of flowers, 

And in the still small voice that's nigh. 
And in the summer hours. 

There's music in the plaintive pine, 

And in the rustling leaf, 
And in the prayer at holy shrine. 

And in the joy of grief. 

7 



SELECT POEMS. 

There's music in the waterfall, 

And in the song of bird, 
And in the cricket's chirping call, 

And in a kindly word. 

There's music in the surging sea, 
And in the whispering shell. 

And in the wind that's ever free. 
And in the marriage-bell. 

There's music in the bosom's thrill, 
And in the heart's true beat. 

And in the twihght on the hill. 
And tread of angel-feet. 

There's music in the golden spheres. 
That chant the hymn of time ; 

And in the bright celestial years, 
Eternal and sublime. 



THE MORAL HERO. 



THE MORAL HERO. 

With heart that trusteth still, 
Set high your mark; ' 

And, though with human ill 
The warfare may be dark, 

Resolve to conquer, and you will. 

Resolve; then onward press, 

Fearless and -true : 
Believe it, Heaven will bless 

The brave, and still renew 
Your hope and courage in distress. 

Press on, nor stay to ask 

For friendship's aid : 
Deign not to wear a mask. 

Nor wield a coward's blade. 
But still persist, though hard the task. 

Rest not : inglorious rest 
Unnerves a man. 



lO SELECT POEMS. 

Struggle : 'tis God's behest. 

Fill up life's little span 
With godlike deeds ; it is the test, — 

Test of the high-born soul 

And lofty aim ; 
The test in History's scroll 
Of every honored name. 
- None but the brave shall win the goal. 

Go act a hero's part, 

And in the strife 
Strike with a hero's heart 

For liberty and life: 
Ay, strike for Truth; preserve her chart. 

Her chart, unstained, preserve ; 

'Twill guide you right : 
Press on, and never swerve, 

But keep your armor bright. 
And struggle still, with firmer nerve. 

Error must fall at last; 

It is ordained : 
Old creeds are crumbling fast; 

But, ere the victory's gained, 
Heroes must strike, — the die is cast ! 



THE MORAL HERO. Jl 

What though the tempest rage; 

Buffet the sea; 
Where duty calls, engage; 

And, ever striving, be 
The moral hero of the age. 



12 SELECT POEMS. 



FOOTSTEPS. 

I HEAR upon the chamber-stair 

Her footsteps light, 
FalHng Hke music on the air 

At morn and night. 

And oft upon the parlor-floor 

Ingrained with flowers 
I hear the step I've heard before 

In happier hours; 

Arid, in the chair that's vacant now, 

Oft think I see 
The sainted one with radiant brow 

Who visits me. 

Yet when I rise, and turn to greet 

That angel fair, 
She disappears, with smile that's sweet. 

Upon the air. 



FOOTSTEPS. 13 

And yet her footsteps oft I hear 

At morn and eve ; 
And in her whispers, seeming near, 

I still believe, 

Nor yield the faith I've cherished long, 

Heartfelt and true, 
But, with a hope that still grows strong, 

My faith renew. 

In woman's smile, in woman's tear. 

And heart when given. 
Star-like there glows a love sincere 

That's born of heaven. 



14 SELECT POEMS, 



GIVE US LIGHT. 

Ay, give us light, more light, to cheer 

Our footsteps onward still : 
Welcome the star whose bright career 

Doth fling o'er vale and hill 
Light, — more light ! 

Methinks I hear the toiling mass. 
Who sweat to pamper pride. 

Whisper with murmuring lips, " Alas ! 
And why are we denied 
Light, — more light?" 

Oh, list ! how like the startling wave 
That breaks on Ocean's shore 

The voice that wakes the mental slave. 
Who hardly dares implore 
Light, — more light ! 

True men are they, with lips unsealed. 
Men of unfettered mind. 



GIVE US LIGHT. 15 

Who seek the light as 'tis revealed 

In Nature's teachings kind, — 

Light, — more light ! 

While Truth her glorious banner waves 

From high celestial walls, 
Strong men will rise e'en from their graves 
To catch the light that falls, — 
Light, — more light 1 



1 6 SELECT POEMS. 



RECOGNITION. 

In the sky afar, afar, 

Where spirits dwell, 
I see a lone, lone star, 

And feel its spell. 

The holiest star of night. 

Pensive it glows : 
I know, by its mild, mild light, 

It shares my woes. 

I see, in its saintly smile 

And radiant brow, 
A seraph that knows no guile, 

And renew my vow. 



WHO IS SHE? 17 



WHO IS SHE? 

Oh ! they say she's the belle of the town : 
If you doubt it, I'll wage you a crown 

That ere long you will rue it. 
When you meet her, beware ! for she can, 
If she choose, charm a sensible man, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 

With the blush of the rose on her cheek, 
She affects to be modest and meek : 

Ah ! I fear you will rue it. 
With the flash of her dark hazel eye 
She extorts from the gazer a sigh, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it 1 

When she flings to the zephyr the fold 
Of her scarf, with its purple and gold, 

* Look aside, or you'll rue it ! 
Like a seraph just dropped from the skies, 
She attracts by her charms roving eyes, 
• 'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 



I SELECT POEMS. 

You may meet her whenever you please, 

At the rout, — she's the gem of the squeeze, — 

But take care, or you'll rue it ! 
She'll entangle your heart in her smile, 
And for mischief she'll tease you a while, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 

Though enchanting her wit with its spice, 
Still" her heart is as frigid as ice : 

He who weds her will rue it. 
So be careful, nor sigh for the bliss; 
Yet you may, if you can, steal a kiss, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 

But there's danger in taking a sip 

From the dewdrop that moistens her lip; 

Who attempts it will rue it : 
For in truth she is skilled in her art; 
And she boasts, when she breaks a brave heart, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 

She dehghts to be weaving a snare. 
And to feast on the breath of despair : 

Who disputes it will rue it. 
Let her flirt till as old as her aunt, 
Then, desiring to wed, find she can't, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 



THE STREAM OF TIME. 19 



THE STREAM OF TIME. 

It rolls in grandeur lone, — 

The stream of Time ; 
And on its shores lie strown 

The wrecks of every chme, — 

Fragments of ancient art, 

Temples and towers; 
And tombs that still impart 

Lessons of life's brief hours. 

Yes, empires proud and vast, 

That rose unchecked, 
The mightiest of the past, 

Have on that stream been wrecked. 

And there, at unknown date, 

Have perished names 
Renowned of old and great, 

Plumed lords and jewelled dames. 



20 SELECT POEMS. 

And, cast like worthless weeds 

Upon the wave, 
There cherished hopes and creeds 

Have found a nameless grave. 

Yet onward and sublime 

Will ever glide 
The silent stream of Time, 

That bears us on its tide. 

And we, in turn, shall leave 
Sad wrecks behind, — 

The wonders we achieve, 
All save immortal mind. 



OTHER DAYS. 2i 



OTHER DAYS. 

Though dear to me are Western- charms, — 
Rivers and lakes with outstretched arms, 

And prairies broad and free, — 
Yet dearer still my native land, 
Her mountains, vales, and ocean strand, 
With old, tried friends to grasp my hand, 

And. welcome me. 

Yet mine 'tis not, undimmed, to find 
The hearth where glowed affections kind, 

'Mid hopes too bright for tears; 
Those purer joys which thrilled my breast, 
And gave to life its sweetest zest. 
With her whose lip maternal blest 

Mine earliest years ! 

Still unassailed by ruthless hand. 
Oh, let that dear old mansion stand. 

Though strangers tread its hearth ! 
And spare that elm, unbowed, unbroke, 



22 SELECT POEMS. 

Which still survives the lightning's stroke, 
Crowning the hill, where curls the smoke 
As at my birth. 

Not far away, 'mid hillocks green. 

The lettered stone, moss-grown, that's seen 

Nodding o'er sacred dust. 
Brings back to me the faded past, — 
A mother's love, and kiss, — the last, — 
With lessons kind, to which steadfast 

I cling and trust. 

With Hngering step, and heart sincere, 
There let me drop a filial tear, 

In tears still seek relief. 
Like Ocean's surge that restless heaves, 
My days roll on; yet Memory weaves 
Her twihght o'er the past, and leaves 

A balm for grief. 

Though mine's a grief no balm can heal, 
I love old memories, and still feel 

Their magic o'er me flung. 
But list ! from steepled church I hear 
The old town-clock, deep-toned and clear. 
That knells the hours from year to year 

With iron tongue. 



OTHER DAYS. 23 

And there, adown the vale, I see 
A noisy group, low roof, and tree, — 

The spot to which I hied 
In summer's heat and winter's snow, 
A satchelled lad, who cared to know 
Little of books, nor much, I trow, 

That's wise beside. 

There gHdes the brook, whose flowery bank 
Was oft the scene of many a prank 

And feat attained at school; 
And, like a spectre, near the hill 
There stands the same old clicking mill, 
Where many an idle urchin still 

Disturbs the pool. 

A truant there, beneath the spray 
How oft I've angled all the day. 

Or gathered pebbles rare ! 
Ay, waded half way to the chin 
To build the crib, and drive them in, — 
The startled brood, with silver fin. 

Shy of the snare. 

When woods were tinged with Autumn's hue, 
Oft o'er the hills I've brushed the dew. 
Ere flashed the morning's sun. 



24 SELECT POEMS. 

In search of treasures shaken down 
By wind and frost, — nuts white and brown; 
Or sought, in chase of game, renown • 
With mimic gun. 

Around those haunts I loved so well 
When but a child there breathes a spell, — 

A spell that charms me yet, — 
. The stately elm 'neath which I played. 
The frowning steep and wizard glade. 
And, more than all, the wild cascade 

With jewels set. 

And yet there is one hallowed shrine 
Around which holier memories twine, — 

Twine with a name that's dear; 
The name of one that's sainted now, 
The nymph who heard mine earhest vow 
With moistened eye, and sunny brow, 

And listening ear. 

But where are now those happy years, 
Too blest to last, which time endears, 

And faithful hearts embalm? 
Those years, the mirthful and the free, 
Alas ! are lost for aye to me, — 
Lost in the past, the dark Dead Sea, 

Where all is calm ! 



OTHER DAYS. 25 

Yet o'er that sea will ever flow 
Heart-touching whispers, sweet and low, 

Ay, sanctified to him 
Who loves the past, yet hails afar 
The seraph Hope, on golden car. 
Bearing her lamp, a twinkling star, — 

Twinkling, though dim.. 



26 - SELECT POEMS. 



MORNING. 

Like a nymph from an ocean of pearls, 

Awaking she flies to the hills, 
And smiles at her face and her curls 

As seen in the mirror-like rills. 

Her mantle she wove from the mist 
Ere her glittering- flight had begun. 

And the bracelet that gleams on her wrist 
She wrought from the rays of the sun. 

And the diamonds that flash in her hair 
She plucked from the stars of the night ; 

And, with lips breathing health on the air. 
She kisses the flowers with delight. 

And the flowers, clad in purple and gold, 
Her favors return with a smile. 

And with love all too pure to be told. 
And with heart that is guiltless of guile. 



MORNING. 27 

And, begemmed with the dews of the sky, 
She descends to the silvery lawn, 

And surveys with a bright placid eye 
The splendor'^ that glitter at dawn. 

And she lingers till awed by her sire. 

Whose eye, burning eye, seems to chide; 

Then hastes from his gaze to retire 
With a blush like a beautiful bride; 

Yet returns with the dawn of each day. 
Ere her sire re-ascends to his throne, 

And, delighted, still sprinkles his way 
With the jewels that flash in her zone. 



2S SELECT POEMS. 



WARREN'S APPEAL. 

' [at bunker hill.] 

Comrades ! they come, — 
The invaders, fierce and strong ! 
Hear ye that trump and drum? 
They come to do us wrong ! 
Shall we to tyrant power succumb? 

No ! calm and still 
Await the advancing foe j 
And then, with iron will, 
Deal death at every blow. 
And wrap in lurid flame the hill ! 

Forsake it not, — 
That standard of the free ; 
Nor let dishonor blot 
Its matchless chivalry : 
Where'er it waves, defend the spot ! 

Our country, wives 
And children, the strong ties 



WARREN'S APPEAL. 29 

That bind us, hearts and Hves, 
Demand that we despise 
Danger and death, while hope survives. 

Rather than yield, 
Let us resolve to die 
Upon the battle-field. 
Trusting to God on high, 
Who is our buckler and our shield. 



30 SELECT POEMS. 



HEAVEN ON EARTH. 

There's a heaven on earth — 
A heaven that's mine — 

In the gift of her heart 
Whose love is divine. 

There's a light in her eye, 

That wins without art; 
And there's grace in her step, 

And joy in her heart. 

When the heart blends with heart, 

Confiding and true, 
Then on earth there's a heaven, 

With joys ever new. 



THE VISIONARY. 3^ 



THE VISIONARY. 

A CHILD of genius, — bom, 

Not bred in schools, — 
He scorns the world's proud scorn, 

Though ranked with fools, 
And holds a converse that's refined 
With Nature, and with Nature's mind. 

Nor does he delve with those 

Who delve for gold : 
But, rapt in calm repose, 

Like seer of old. 
He walks with God the stellar deep. 
Where tides of light unbounded sweep ; 

And wonders why were made 

The earth and stars. 
Whose music rolls, unstayed. 

In golden bars; 
Nor strives to quench the subtle fire 
That wakes his soul to high desire. 



32 SELECT POEMS. 

Though all that man calls great 

Should he attain, 
It would not, could not, sate 

His burning brain; 
For he would reach the source of light, 
And share, enthroned, the Almighty's might ! 

Thus lost in thought that's free, 

And manifold. 
He ever drifts at sea, — 

Starless and bold; 
Yet cannot break the imperial seal 
Of fate, nor life's dark myth reveal. 



THE VAIN REQUEST, 33 



THE VAIN REQUEST. 

Give me the heart that's pure and warm, 
Whose virtues constant shine; 

Give me the soul that's nobly great, 
Yet melts in grief with mine. 

Give me the rosy blushing cheek, 

The lip without a stain; 
Give me. the meekly pensive eye, • 

Whose flash thrills every vein. 

Give me the sweet, responsive smile. 

Love's sympathy refined; 
Give me an angel's graceful form, 

An angel's sinless mind. 

Ay, give me nature, spirit, fire, 

A gem of brilliant ray, 
In one who heeds my every wish. 

Though absolute her sway. 



34 SELECT POEMS. 

Give me but woman thus endowed, 
Whose jewels virtues are, 

And I will worship, like a saint. 
So beautiful a star. 

But, ah ! how vain, how vain, to ask 

A gift so rich and rare. 
Since earthly bliss is but a dream. 

And beauty frail as fair ! 



THE CLASSIC LAND. 35 



THE CLASSIC LAND. 

Go shroud thee in the mist of olden time, 

Amid the ruins of the past ; 
Go tread the templed hills of Orient clime, 
And list to patriot bards, whose songs subhme 

Lispired, like peal of trumpet blast. 
The mountaineers, and woke the slumbering vales, 
Ere Greece was heard to pour her funeral wails. 



Though fallen, glorious still, O Greece, thy fate ! — 

Glorious 'neath centuries of night ! 
For thine the classic land, the ancient state, 
Where sprang the sister arts ; and where the great, 

The good, the wise, who sought the right. 
Have reared to ages, as they fleetly run, 
A proud philosophy, surpassed by none. 



But where are now thy beautiful and brave, 
Thy temples, gods, and festal games? 



36 SELECT POEMS. 

Awe-struck, we trace the isles that gem thy wave, 
And point to Athens, and revere thy grave; 

Yes, oft repeat thine honored names 
Of heroes, poets, orators, and sage, 
And feel thine influence still in every age. 



GOD'S FINGER-MARK, 37 



GOD'S FINGER-MARK. 

In sun and moon and stars, 
In hidden mysteries dark, 

Behold the seal impressed, 
God's finger-mark ! 

In mountains scathed and rent. 
In fearful caverns dark. 

Behold the seal impressed, 
God's finger-mark ! 

Throughout all Nature's realm, 

Illuminate or dark. 
Behold the seal impressed, 

God's finger-mark ! 

Yet plainer still in man, 

And in his Hfe, though dark, 

Behold the seal impressed, 
God's finger-mark ! 



38 SELECT POEMS. 

But most in love divine 

That cheers our sorrows dark, 

Behold the seal impressed, 
God's finger-mark ! 

In faith and hope and heaven, 
In life that's never dark. 

Behold the seal impressed, 
God's finger-mark ! 



LONG AGO. 39 



LONG AGO. 

'Mid pleasant visions gliding dim 

Along the shore, 
Where still resounds Life's ocean-hymn 

With solemn roar, 
Methinks I see forms tall and slim, 

Angels you know. 
Who graced the earth — earth's seraphim — 

Long, long ago. 

And in their eyes, as sparkling still 

As in the hours 
When young and gay we climbed the hill 

And gathered flowers, 
I hail but love and kind good-will, 

And thoughts that glow, 
And in my veins still feel the thrill 

Felt long ago. 

And, dreaming, hear but whispers sweet, 
From lips unstained. 



40 SELECT POEMS. 

The music of the heart's quick beat, 

That's never feigned; 
And catch a ghmpse of twinkhng feet 

'Neath robes of snow, — 
Visions that haunted hall and street 

Long, long ago. 

Oh ! is there not a mystic balm 

In memories old; 
In hopes which still our fears disarm, - 

Hopes manifold; 
And in the ever-lingering charm 

Of that sweet woe 
Which grew to love sincere and calm 

Long, long ago? 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 41 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 

Go trace, O man ! thine emanation far 
Beyond the Bounds of earth. The eldest star 
May be thy junior. Ask, nor dare to scan 
What was ere uncreated Mind began, — 
Yet unbegun, — when heaven itself was dark. 
When all was void, and life's ethereal spark 
Remained unstruck; nor gaze beyond the verge, 
Where thought expires, and silence breathes a dirge ! 

And yet, in search of truth, why not explore 
Divinest realms, — the depths of Nature's lore, 
Her prone affinities, her plastic forms. 
Her mystic aim, and vital spark that wamis 
Insensate clay to life, and e'en that part 
Which cannot die, the moral sense, the heart? 

Whate'er our future fate, remote or near, 
Why cherish still a faith that's born of fear? 
Or why that crisis view with solemn awe, 
'The expiring hour ordained by Nature's law, — 
Man's last yet glorious birth to Hfe that's higher. 
Where love abounds, and pure his soul's desire? 



42 SELECT POEMS. 

And is it not enough for us to know- 
That Nature wills our weal, but ne'er our woe? 
Then why refuse, amid unclouded light, 
To read her lessons, and to choose the right? 
Or why still ask, beyond this vale of tears. 
If man be blest, or sink the waif of years? 
Since life, whate'er its form, whate'er its sphere, 
Survives all change, nor stays its bright career. 

This planet. Earth, whereon we strive and die. 
Compared with mightier orbs that gem the sky, 
What is it but a sunbeam's glittering mote ? 
And what, among the spheres, its lowly note? 
And what are systems, with their central sun, 
But dazzling lights with which the viewless One 
Illumes his boundless realms, and palace-halls. 
And hallowed courts that glow with sapphire walls, 
The final home where weary souls shall rest. 
And taste but bliss, and be forever blest? 

And what is man, with ever- wavering trust? 
What but a breathing miracle of dust ; 
A puzzle to himself, o'er which he sighs. 
And questions God, yet thinks himself as wise? 
Aspiring still, at most what can he know 
Of life not yet revealed 'mid stars that glow? 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 43 

Though his an Eden once, it soon became 
A scene of tears, and sin acquired a name ; 
But not till crowned with flowers, and at his side 
AngeHc woman smiled, and blushed a bride ! 
Enough, since man was blest, when fatal lore 
Touched woman's heart with sorrow to the core. 
And placed her in her present sphere, alone. 
To cheer the fallen state with love's sweet tone. 

Though heirs to grief, we struggle to regain 
The treasures of the sky ; but, ah ! the strain 
Which Hope the siren still pours forth misleads 
The frantic chase, nor soothes the heart that bleeds ; 
And yet like shadows, aimless, still we flit. 
Perplexed with doubts, iK)r learn that ills befit 
On earth our dark career. 'Tis sweet to think 
That we may yet be blest, while link by link 
In Nature's chain we cHmb, and dimly trace 
Our destiny, and seize, as if by grace, 
E'en on celestial joys; though oft we quake 
'Mid ghostly fears, and Wisdom's path forsake. 

When Nature counselleth the heart, we hear 
Reproving whispers ; conscience, or a tear, 
Perhaps, betrays us to ourselves ; and then 
The world, its pride, its pomp, its fools, its men, 



44 SELECT POEMS. 

Pass huddled in review, — a painful scene, 
That sickens life. 'Tis all in vain, I ween, 
To ponder o'er the fate of human kind : 
All would be happy, yet all. will be blind. 

Ah ! why do men still seek it as a prize, — 
The happiness which dazzles envious eyes, — 
And yet forget the source of moral good. 
The charities of life, least understood? 
Why penetrate the mountain's rocky side 
For crumbs of gold, or track the ocean wide 
To gather pearls, and, at some future day. 
Expect to bask beneath the sunny ray 
Of earthly bhss, yet die at last the slaves 
Of Folly's reign, and fill forgotten graves? 

Forbear the human bosom to unmask : 
The passions prompt us, whatsoe'er we ask; 
And Virtue's path, though traced upon a chart, 
We seldom choose till grief refines the heart. 
Yet hope links heaven and earth ; and thus, despite 
The human will, unerring Nature's Hght 
Constrains beHef, and teaches that the soul 
Must be immortal. Nor can aught control 
This innate sense. Alas ! who would persuade 
Himself, by dint of lore or logic's aid, 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 45 

That dark annihilation, cheerless creed. 
Ingulfs us all at last, then blots the deed? 

Though man may seem, with his restricted powers. 
The victim still of Fortune's freakish hours, 
Yet rule he may — and overrule — by thought 
Which still expands, till he himself is wrought 
To more than man. And when, at last, the breath 
Which he inhales at birth departs at death. 
He but attains to life, — a soul refined. 
That's merged again in elemental Mind. 

Oft from the darkened past, as from an urn. 
The memories dear of those we loved return, 
And tell of days and years and feeling hearts. 
When friendship knew but truth,, and love no arts j 
When joys were pure, and in life's golden sky 
No darkling cloud arose to blind the eye ; 
When Hope with smiling brow inspired the hours, 
And earth seemed but a paradise of flowers. 

Amid the gloom of years old empires rest; 
And who can say if they were cursed or blest? 
The monuments which told with lettered trust 
Where slept the great have crumbled into dust. 
Perchance the clods on which we heedless tread 
Have breathed with life, — the ashes of the dead, — 



46 SELECT POEMS, 

• 

Ashes which yet shall wake to conscious life, 
And, in the great advancing drama's strife, 
Assume, with new-born joy and purer heart, 
Still higher forms, and play a nobler part. 
And yet why doubt, or yield to mystic fear? 
What Nature wills, God wills, — a truth that's clear. 



THE CELESTIAL VISITANT 47 



THE CELESTIAL VISITANT. 

Like the ray of a lone bright star 

Her spirit oft visits me still, 
And brings back the years from afar 

When heart beat to heart with a thrill. 

And, tinting my dreams with the hue 
Of a smile derived from the sky, 

She moistens my brow with the dew 
Of a tear-drop warm from her eye. 

And sweetly she breathes in my ear 
The vow which I made in my youth, 

And with Hps still fervid and dear 
She pledges her love and her truth. 

And in tones still gentle and kind 
She whispers of joys that are past, — : 

Of life, with its pleasures refined; 

And of love's first dream, and its last. 



4^ SELECT POEMS. 

And arrayed in her bridal flowers, 

Though life's early dream hath departed, 

Beyond the dark cloud that still lowers 
She awaits me, my own true-hearted. 



THE VOYAGER, 49 



THE VOYAGER. 

When burst that thrilling cry 
Of " Land-ho ! " on the voyager's ear, 
With what delight his searching eye 
Beheld the shadowy mountains he 

Far in the distance, — dim, yet clear ! 

A world before him lay 
In all its beauty and its prime : 
With fearless step he led the way. 
And knelt on shore, and blessed the day, 

The most eventful of his time. 

Freely the golden land. 
That gave a tint to all his dreams, 
Yielded to him, with heart and hand, 
Her empire vast, from strand to strand, 

With all her wealth of hills and streams. 

But Nature's children then 
Dreamed not of woes which time revealed : 



50 SELECT POEMS. 

They saw but gods in Europe's men, 
And still revered them, even when 
Their fate had been forever sealed. 

And yet that wiser Power, 
Who shapes the destiny of man, 
Had willed a brighter, happier hour 
To cheer the gloom, which seemed to lower 

In darkness o'er his moral plan. 

And with the years which came 
There came brave men, whose valor won 
For Freedom's land a glorious name. 
And on whose altar burns the flame 

That once inspired a Washington. 

Intenser let it burn, — 
The flame that still inspires the free, — 
Till man the rights of man shall learn, 
And every land become, in turn, 

A glorious land of liberty ! 



SYMPATHIES. 51 



SYMPATHIES. 

I LOVE to think that spirits dwell 
Upon the earth, — the beautiful, the good, 
Whose sympathies are pure, yet understood 

By none save those who feel the spell. 

I love to think that in life's vale 
There are ungathered flowers, whose bosoms glow 
With silent feeling and with tender woe 

For him whose hopes, long cherished, fail. 

I love to think that still a ray, 
Divine like that of hope, will long be felt 
By her to whom in earlier years I knelt, — 

The vision of my darkened way. 

I love to think that golden hours 
Will yet be mine while here on earth I tread, — 
Blest hours, when fairer skies will glow o'erhead, 

And nought spring 'neath my feet but flowers. 



52 SELECT POEMS. 

I love to think that I shall meet, 
In hoher realms, the dear departed few, ■ — 
Angelic souls affectionate and true. 

Whose last kind words I oft repeat. 

I love to think that I shall read 
The record of His mighty plan divine 
Who dwells in light, and in each golden line . 

Acquire the wisdom which I need. 

I love to think that I shall reign 
In some bright sphere, with power to tread the way 
From star to star through life's eternal day, 

And still to higher spheres attain. 



THE RAINBOW, 53 



THE RAINBOW. 

How beautiful to wondering eyes 

The rainbow's flame, 
That spans the earth, and tints the skies. 

Hallowed in name. 
And blent with more than Tyrian dyes ! 

How like bright hopes its glories shine, 

Distant, yet nigh ! 
Its woven hues, oh, how divine ! 

Though doomed to die 
In fitful mood, like hopes of mine. 

And yet within the heavenly gate 

Its smiles invite 
Earth's weary pilgrim, child of Fate, 

To share the light 
Which death nor gloom can dissipate. 

It cheers the faith to which we cling, — 
Faith in the dream 



54 SELECT POEMS. 

Of life, and in the hopes that fling 

Earthward a gleam 
Of heaven, like flash of angel's wing. 

Emblem of love and power untold, 

It crowns His brow 
Who doth the skies about him fold, 

Keeping his vow, 
And golden promise made of old. 



DEPARTED, 55 



DEPARTED. 

Too pure for earth, too pure for earth, 

Thy home the spirit-land. 
Where earth-born flowers unfading smile, 

Transferred by angel hand ! 

Yes, on thy brow the calm, bright skies 
Of heaven their radiance shed : 

The gift is thine, an angel's harp. 
How blest the early dead ! 

From sorrow's vale uncheered and dark, 
From tears and vain desires. 

While young and sinless thou art freed. 
The soul to heaven aspires. 

But still thy name remains intwined 

With memories ever dear. 
And they who on thee oft have smiled 

Now smile but through a tear. 



56 SELECT POEMS. 



THE FAR WEST. 

Oh, where, think ye, is now the West, 

The far, far West, the land of dreams. 
Whose hills and vales, with virgin breast, 
Still slumber in their ancient rest. 

Lulled by the voice of plaintive streams? 

From Mexico, where airs are bland, 

To Oregon's impetuous flood, 
Already vale and mountain land 
Resound to that advancing band 

Who proudly boast heroic blood. 

Nor distant" is the day, perchance, 

When yet these sons of valiant sires 
Shall win their way by love or lance 
To sunnier climes, and e'en advance 
Beyond the equator's solar fires. 

Thus race to race must ever yield, 
And mental power assume the sway : 



THE FAR WEST. 57 

Broad as the earth the ample field 
For thq§e who trust in Virtue's shield, 
And Freedom's banner dare display. 

The far, far West, 'tis Freedom's now, 
The gift of God to earth's oppressed, — 

The land where all who take the vow 

No more to king or priest to bow 

May come, and find their wrongs redressed. 

Ay, there shall happy millions yet 

Reclaim the soil, and crowd the mart, — 

Freemen who thrive by toil and sweat. 

Sprinkling the waste with cities. set 
On hill and plain like gems of art. 

And there shall thought yet fly afar 
Along the wire, from climes remote. 

And blend with thought Hke star with star; 

While startling rolls the frantic car. 
And bannered glides the gallant boat. 

• 
And there, unawed, the -mind of man. 

Progressive still, shall still aspire. 
Nor yield to creeds that fear to scan 
The mystic lore of Nature's plan, 

But still, insatiate, aim the higher | 



58 SELECT POEMS. 

In sooth it needs no prophet's eye 

Westward to Ocean's calmer surge^ 
To see the future there outvie 
The ancient world, whose glories lie 
Pillared on Time's receding verge. 

Oh ! what, when centuries have rolled, 

Will be this mighty Western land? 
Her sons — will they be brave and bold, 
And still defend her banner's fold? 
Her holy altars — will they stand? 

The link that binds the sisterhood — 

Say, will it brighten and grow strong. 
And men bear rule, the great and good, 
Who shun dissension, strife, and blood. 
Yet cleave to right, nor yield to wrong? 

Fear not ! with holier influence yet 

The years shall come which God ordains ; 

When Freedom's bounds shall not be set, 

Nor man his fellow-man forget 
In blind pursuit of sordid gains. 



WORSHIP. 59 



WORSHIP. 

Alone, at hush of night, 

Go forth, and, in the light 
Of stars that angel-hke unveil 
Their beauty, kneel, ere hope shall fail. 

Yes, all thy sorrows cast 

Back on the darkened past. 
And, meek, at Nature's hallowed shrine 
Invoke her aid and smile divine. 

And in her sacred word, 

Too seldom read or heard, 
Confide with an unfaltering trust, 
And learn that all her laws are just. 

Her stem commands obey. 

And for her guidance pray. 
And wait the change, the second birth. 
When Sorrow's reign shall cease on earth. 



6o SELECT POEMS. 

The birth that lifts the soul 
To realms where anthems roll, 
And all the kindred ties of time 
Are lost in boundless love sublime. 



THE QUEEN OF NIGHT, 6 1 



THE QUEEN OF NIGHT. 

Pale wanderer in the azure field 

That blossometh with stars, 
Guarding thy breast with silver shield, 

Yet hurling silver bars, — ; 
Say, why so fickle in thy round 
Through realms celestial and profound? 

And why, with ever-smihng face, 

O'er golden pathways lone, 
Dost thou at eve dehght to chase 

Dim shadows, all thine own, 
Yet beautiful, and lovely too. 
As rosy nymphs that brush the dew? 

And why in thine employ retain 

That archer ever bold 
Who aims at maiden and at swain 

His arrows tipped with gold. 
Yet strives to soothe, with winning art 
And hoHest vow, the wounded heart? 



62 SELECT POEMS. 

Empress of Love ! 'tis ever thine 
To wield a magic power, 

That's earthly half, and half divine; 
And thine the witching hour 

When pledges sweet are often given, 

Yet only true when sealed in heaven. 



THE OLD YEAR, 63 



THE OLD YEAR. 

Lo ! the Year now retires, 
The sad Old Year, like a king from his throne; 
And, fated, he sinks, unwept and alone, 

To the grave of his sires. 

Yet he bears in his hand 
A scroll of sweet memories traced with a tear, — 
Thoughts which come back to the heart like a seer 

From the dark Silent Land. 

The decrees of his reign 
Enshrined let us cherish, though summoned to part 
With friends whom we loved, the wealth of the heart. 

In the vale of the slain. 

Yet we sigh for the years 
Which Hope has begemmed with promises bright. 
And wait, though they come not, save with the night 

Of the grave and with tears. 



64 SELECT POEMS. 



TO A POETESS. 

Swan of the sweet and pensive song. 

Forgive this proffered lay : 
Though envied by a rival throng, 

Aspire ! and win thy way 
To every heart that loves delight. 

Traced on the scroll of Fame, 

Already thine's a name 
That, brightening, sheds a stellar light. 

Fear not ! but trust to bolder wing, 

And, in a trackless sky, 
Ascend 'mid stars, whose anthems fling 

Still back a sweet reply. 
Aspire ! nor heed the critic's blast. 

But still with many a gem 

Enrich thy diadem ; 
And pour thy strains, and they shall last. 

Yes, warbler of our Western land, ' 
The destiny is thine 



TO A POETESS. 65 

Among the gifted few to stand, 

A favorite of the Nine. 
Aspire ! and o'er Time's ocean-tide 

Still loftier strike thy lyre; 

Strike it, with soul of fire, 
To notes that wake a nation's pride. 



66 SELECT POEMS. 



THE ZEPHYR. 

Born of the air, 
Say, whither, whither, dost thou glide, 
With breath of balm, on azure tide. 

Viewless, yet fair? 

O'er hill and dale 
'Tis thine to stray, and share the smile 
Of stars and flowers, and without guile 

Thyself regale. 

At summer eve. 
On gentle wing that fans my brow, 
Why stoop, or, blandly whispering now. 

Ask why I grieve, — * 

Grieve for the blest. 
The dearly-loved one, now no more, 
To whom an angel oped the door 

In realms of rest? 



THE ZEPHYR. 67 

Yet, when I hear 
The loving whisper of thy lute, 
I think it hers whose lip is mute, 

And hope and fear; 

And, though in vain, 
Still wait to hear one whisper more. 
And still at Beauty's shrine adore, 

Nor would refrain. 

Her spirit, bright 
And seraph-like, looks down from heaven; 
While I look up with soul unshriven, 

And hail the light. 



68 SELECT POEMS. 



HEREAFTER. 

Alas ! how fearful, silent, vast, 

The dim and shadowy realm 
Where undisputed reigns the Past, 

And voiceless waves o'erwhelm, 
In dark Oblivion's darker tide, 
All that we are, with all our pride. 

Lost in the dread Hereafter ! 

And will there be no whisper heard, 

No voices kind and sweet, 
No tender heart-string touched or stirred. 

No love that is complete. 
To soothe the grief that cannot speak; 
No faithful friend, tear-eyed and meek, — 

None in the dread Hereafter? 

And will there be no more of earth, 

No more of sky and stars. 
No hills or vales, nor vernal birth 

Of flowers, nor radiant bars 



HEREAFTER. 69 

Of light to break upon the stream 
That bears us onward like a dream, — 
, On, — in the dread Hereafter ? 

BeHeve, there is no death for him 

Who lives on earth aright : 
He sees no shadows dark or grim; 

For him there is no night, 
No last dull sleep, no fearful knell. 
Nor terror, when he goes to dwell. 

Blest, in the dread Hereafter. 



70 SELECT POEMS. 



A PARTICULAR STAR. 

O'er* the mountain, the hill, and the vale, 
When the gems of the night gleam afar. 

Say, who turns not with rapture to hail, 
High enthroned, a particular star? 

Though too fondly of bliss we may dream, 
And though sorrows our happiness mar. 
Still who loves not to bask in the beam 
. Of a bright yet particular star ? 

Who that dwells 'neath the musical spheres. 
Chiming low without quaver or bar. 

Can resist the sweet smiles or the tears 
Of a very particular star? 

Yes, as pure as the smile in the sky. 
When the Morning appears on her car. 

Is the love-light that gleams in the eye 
Of a dear yet particular star ! 



A PARTICULAR STAR. 71 

May he find her the charm of his life, 
Ever kind without discord or jar, 

Who, enraptured, has won for a wife 
An adored yet particular star ! 



72 SELECT POEMS, 



SUMMER. 

Lo ! Summer serenely advances, 

Arrayed in the smiles of the sun; 
While zephyrs are weaving their dances 

In the vales where the rivulets run; 
And notes from the woodland soothingly steal 
The heart that is wounded, — never to heal. 

When alone, -^ a recluse in the bower, — 
Communion with Nature how sweet ! 

Her whispers and smiles have the power, 
'Mid the charms of her fairy retreat. 

To recall the blest hours whose flight we bemoan, 

And awake in the soul a heaven of its own. 

Though Summer ere long with her pleasures 
Must yield to the cold Winter blast. 

And we who are fed from her treasures 
Depart, and be lost in the past; 

Yet hope, like a star still unclouded and bright, 

Dispels every fear, and illumines the night. 



MOUNT VERNON. 73 



MOUNT VERNON. 

On yonder swelling height, 
With ivied oaks and cedars crowned, 
Where Freedom's banner floats in light, 
And every whispering sound 
Breathes of the past, 'tis consecrated ground.^ 

Pilgrim ! ascend the steep, 
And there, with true and feeling heart. 
On Vernon's brow deep silence keep j 
Ay, let the tear-drop start 
While proud yet hallowed thoughts a balm impart. 

Nature hath marked the spot 
Where sleeps the great, the good, the wise, 
Entombed, yet ne'er to be forgot : 
Ah ! there the hero lies. 
The man of mighty deeds and high emprise. 

A calm hillside retreat. 
Soft mirrored in Potomac's tide, 



74 ' SELECT POEMS. 

The spot he chose, at Vernon's seat, 
'Mid wild flowers scattered wide, 
And pleasant groves that wave, in native pride. 

Though but a lowly shrine,^ 
There grateful hearts dehght to pay- 
Homage to Freedom's son divine, 
The mightiest in the fray, 
' The mightiest in his country's darkest day. 

True worth like his disdains 
The marble's proud emblazoned chart, 
And trusts to lore which still remains 

Engraved upon the heart 
When crumbling fall the monuments of Art. 

But turn where stands the hall^ 
In which the chieftain dwelt of yore. 
And view, still gleaming on the wall. 

The armor which he wore. 
With belt and plume, and sabre stained with gore ; 

And, with the memories dim 
Which gather round that sacred hearth, 
Recall the lessons taught by him 

Who godlike trod the earth. 
And blessed her sons, and gave a nation birth, — 



MOUNT VERNON. 75 

The patriot calm, yet bold, 
Whose glorious deeds will ever shed 
Renown upon those days of old, 

When he to battle led 
The stern and true who bravely fought and bled. 

'Twas then, in counsels grave, 
That statesmen, noblest of the land, 
Their solemn pledge to Freedom gave. 
And boldly took their stand 
In her defence, united heart and hand. 

And still, unmoved by fear, 
Shall Freedom's sons maintain the right; 
Nor marvel, though the rolling year 

Disclose to man new light 
To cheer his faith, and give him moral might. 

How oft with placid eye 
Has he, whose spirit awes us still, 
• Stood where we stand, and viewed the sky, 

The river, vale, and hill, 
And heard the forest-bird its anthem trill ! 

And down the vale that sweeps 
In graceful curves to ocean's tide, 



76 SELECT POEMS. 

How calm the bridal landscape sleeps, 
While zephyrs playful glide, 
Fanning the flowers that blush in sinless pride ! 

And see in distance rise. 
Like sentinels to guard the scene. 
Mountains half lost in magic skies. 

With pleasant vales between, 
- Where Beauty, cradled, wears a • smile serene. 

In all her wide domain, 
Say, where has Nature lavished more 
To please the eye, the heart to gain, 

Or bid the fancy soar, 
Than here upon Potomac's peaceful shore? 

'Twas here, retired, he sought 
A tranquil life to love endeared, — 
He who the stern resolve had wrought. 

In days of gloom uncheered, 
To strike for human rights, though traitors sneered. 

When erst the hero drew 
His battle-blade amid the wild, 
Braddock, to English feeling true, 

Spumed him as but a child, 
Yet rashly fell with many a victim piled. 



MOUNT VERNON. 77 

Nor dreamed the world as yet 
That glittering on a stripling's breast 
The " star of empire " had been set ; 

Nor yet had dreamed the oppressed 
How soon that rising star would cheer the West. 

When Freedom's spirit woke, 
And blood at Lexington had flowed, 
Brave men flung ofl" at once the yoke, — 

Allegiance long bestowed, — 
And flew to arms with zeal that fervent glowed. 

From mountain, hill, and glen. 
Like torrents rushed the sons of toil, — 
Indignant yet high-minded men. 

Defenders of the soil. 
Whose sturdy blows the oppressor could not foil. 

Proud mistress of the sea ! 
They taught thy pride a lesson wise 
Who o'erboard cast rich freights of tea 

Before thy wondering eyes. 
And dared thy royal stamp and tax despise. 

Though darker grew the day, — 
"A day that tried," as if by fire, 



78 SELECT POEMS. 

" Men's souls," — yet heroes led the way, 
Fearless of Britain's ire. 
With solemn vow to triumph, or expire. 

Musing, methinks I hear 
The chieftain's voice, the foeman's tread. 
And shout of men who knew not fear. 

Onward to victory led, — 
• Our brave old sires, with Freedom's banner spread. 

Beneath a wintry sky. 
At Trenton, in that glorious fight. 
Oh, list the bold, triumphant cry 
Of Liberty and Right, 
Flung back from hill to hill with wild delight ! ^ 

'Mid subtle foes combined. 
How firm was he, that gallant one. 
Ordained of Heaven to bless mankind, — ' 

Columbia's noblest son. 
The pride of earth, the immortal Washington ! 

Sternly he led the van. 
The champion of his country's cause, 
Sworn to defend the rights of man, 

His country and her laws. 
Against a sway that half the world o'erawes. 



MOUNT VERNON. 79 

'Twas he, and he alone, 
Whose skill could guide the banded few, — 
The few who shook a monarch's throne, — 
Patriots sore tried, but true ; 
Those iron men, whose faith still stronger grew. 

And well they earned their fame 
Who fixed on Freedom's star their gaze. 
And fought and bled in Freedom's name, 

And 'mid the battle's blaze 
Bore off the palm, in those heroic days. 

Cornwallis ! still thy shade 
Bewails, methinks, the fated hour 
That saw thee yield thy valiant blade 
A prize to sterner power. 
With spirit bowed, till then untaught to cower. 

Nor sought he self-renown 
Who scourged the foe, and held the sway; 
But now, from proffered kingly crown. 

With scorn he turned away,^ - 
And moral virtue hailed her proudest day. 

Yet his were honors high, — 
The highest which the world bestows; 



8o SELECT POEMS. 

And calm, within a peaceful sky. 
His star resplendent rose, — 
Life's crowning star, triumphant in repose. 

With soul that ne'er repined, 
He wrought his task; and, ever true, 
Now bade, with admonitions kind. 

To power and place adieu. 
And, hke the Roman, to the plough withdrew. 

How vain the lofty tower,^ 
Though reared to heaven by giant hand, 
To speak his praise whose matchless power 

Redeemed his native land. 
And won him fame that will through time expand 

On Vernon's rugged side, 
Where eagles stoop to build the nest. 
There let the hero, with his bride. 

In hallowed slumber rest; 
His fittest monument the mountain's crest. 

And there, as they advance. 
Let ages yet unborn of time, 
Warriors who strike with Freedom's lance, 

And men of every clime. 
Revere his dust, and laud his deeds sublime. 



MOUNT VERNON. 8 1 

Oh, may the land that's free 
Ne'er fall a prey to faction's bhght, 
But with her glorious history 
Still blend a holier light, 
To cheer her sons, and guide them in the right ! 

Go fling upon the air, 
With bolder hand, her banner's flame; 
And still preserve with jealous care 

Her honor and her fame, 
Nor fear to lead the way with heaven-born aim. 

Wide as the world is wide 
Shall Freedom's blessings yet extend; 
And man, whate'er his clime, confide 
In man, as friend in friend. 
And pride of power her errors wisely mend. 



82 SELECT POEMS. 



WILD FLOWERS. 

Daughters of light, who ne'er repine, 

Though high your birth, 
'Tis yours in humble life to shine 

Like modest worth. 

Arrayed in robes of heavenly hue 

You come and go, 
And drink the nectar of the dew. 

Nor taste of woe. 

Inspired, and yet inspiring still, 

You seem to speak, 
And prophesy to vale and hill 

With faith that's meek.. 

'Tis yours a language pure to teach. 

And share his heart 
Who seeks on earth high aims to reach 

Ere he depart. 



WILD FLOWERS, Zt, 

And yours the whisper which, I trow, 

I hear at eve, 
And in the morning's roseate glow, — 

Hear and beheve; 

BeHeve the gospel of your lips 

Spoken to man. 
Nor heed the coming frost that nips 

Each hope and plan. 

For, if my life on earth be true, 

I yet, on high. 
Shall wear a glorious robe like you, 

And never die. 



84 SELECT POEMS. 



THE INNER LIFE. 

Go forth, deep lost in thought, 

Where none intrude. 
And let thy faith be wrought 

In solitude : 
Truth waits, yet must be sought. 

Yes, with thyself commune. 

And, soft as lute. 
Thy heart-strings thus attune 

To love that's mute. 
And vain aspirings prune. 

'Tis only love — complete — 

That will endure. 
When earth-life frail and fleet. 

And hopes not sure, 
Depart, — pure love, I weet, — - 

The sentiment that's shrined 
Deep in the heart; 



THE INNER LIFE. ' 85 

The wealth of soul and mind; 

That better part 
Of man, not yet defined. 

The life of life upright, 

God-like endeavor; 
The star that crowns the night; 

The long forever 
That's lost in cahn delight. 



86 SELECT POEMS. 



VOICE OF THE PINE. 

In other days, from woodland maze, 

Homeward I proudly bore, 
O'er hill and plain, 'mid sleet and rain, 
The graceful pine that breathes divine 

Its music at my door. 

There let it stand, pride of the land, 
■ And in my listening ear 
Still breathe its psalm, low-voiced and calm; 
Sad notes of grief — in my belief— 
Which angels stoop to hear. 

I feel its power at twilight-hour, 

And think that she is near 
Who reigns afar in yonder star, — 
A seraph blest, her soul at rest, 

The brightest of her sphere. 

How dear to me the whispering tree, 
Whose sigh melts on the air ! — 



VOICE OF THE PINE. 87 

Sweeter than words, or song of birds ; 
Because its tone is like her own 
Sweet voice, lute-like and rare. 

Long be it mine, beneath that pine, 

To dream of years gone by ; 
Of her who seems, in all my dreams, 
To visit earth, where love had birth, — 

A love too pure to die. 



S8 SELECT POEMS. 



HYMN TO THE SUN. 

Great sire of life, and source of light, 

Thou hast o'er all control; 
Dispeller of the mystic night. 

Of worlds the central soul. 

Shot from thy quiver, swiftly fly, 
Space-wide, thine arrowy rays; 

Falling, like fire-flakes from the sky, 
Into the boundless maze. 

The sinless stars, so bright and fair. 

Are offspring bom of thee ; 
Daughters of heaven, with -golden hair, 

That smile o'er land and sea. 

From thee the Earth her wealth receives, 
Her beauty, fruits, and flowers; 

And at thy nod old Ocean heaves, 
And feels thy quickening powers. 



. HYMN TO THE SUN. 89 

Yes, all that live, from thee partake 

A life that never dies, — 
A life that sleeps but to awake 

In life beyond the skies. 

And they who worship in thy name, 

And share thy gifts of fire. 
Still in thy smiling face of flame 

Behold creation's Sire, — 

The lofty One, whose outline dim 

Pervades, unseen, the vast; 
The realm that's sanctified by Him, 

The mighty First and Last. 

Oh that we could unveil to sight 
The depths of Nature's plan, — 

The infinite in power and might. 
Whose crowning work is man ! 

Although the seal we cannot break, 

Yet, blest with godlike powers, 
Why not, at least, ourselves forsake, 

And scale the loftiest towers? — 



90 * SELECT POEMS. 

The pinnacles that gleam on high 
In that unchanging clime 

Where ne'er is heard an earthly sigh, 
Nor lisp that breathes of time. 



INNOCENCE. ' 91 



INNOCENCE. 

How can a soul of sinless ray, 
Now breathing love, incline to stray, 

Or need to be forgiven? 
O Innocence, with laughing eyes ! 
Thou art a cherub from the skies, 

A wanderer from heaven. 

Ha! gentle spirit, gift divine. 
There's nectar on those lips of thine. 

And sweet the kiss I've won : 
There dwells no dew on proffered lip. 
That's pure, like that on thine, to sip, — 

On loveliest woman's, — none. 

With heart sincere, while it shall beat. 
May violets spring beneath thy feet, 

And roses crown thy youth; 
And, when to womanhood attained. 
Still may thy graces be unfeigned. 
Thy friendship, love, and truth ! 



92 SELECT POEMS. 



ENSHRINED. 

From crystal fount in yonder sky 

A silvery dewdrop fell, — 
Fell, like a tear from Beauty's eye, 

Into the flowery dell. 

And there, amid the starlight's tide, 
I plucked the floweret wild. 

Into whose breast, with loving pride. 
The dewdrop fell and smiled, — 

A smile that slept enshrined within 
That glittering drop of dew; 

Yet seemed a spirit without sin. 
Whose life, though brief, was true; 

Spirit that kissed the floweret fair, 
And woke within its breast 

A love which Nature bids us share, 
Serene, angelic, blest. 



ENSHRINED. 93 

How oft in nature thus we see, 

Mirrored as in a glass, 
A life of love and purity, 

Which we unheeding pass ! 

In every drop of sparkhng dew, 

In every smiling flower. 
There is a lesson meant for you 

And me, — a voice of power ; 

A voice that speaks to every heart. 

In silence mute yet bland; 
That wins the soiil with mystic art. 

Like a dream in the blissful land. 



94 SELECT POEMS. 



THE BIRTH OF BEAUTY. 

By Nature's hand, though all 

Was made complete, 
Still in her palace -hall 

No twinkling feet, 
Nor graceful figure tall. 

Nor smile that's sweet, 
Had yet obeyed her call. 

And so she racked her brain, 
And gathered flowers, — 

White lihes from the plain, 
And from the bowers 

Roses, — and from the main 
Cosmetic powers ; 

From birds, their sweetest strain. 

Combining- these, she wrought 

A perfect charm; 
And gave it grace and thought. 



THE BIRTH OF BEAUTY. 95 

Brilliant yet calm; 
When man the vision caught 

In his strong arm, 
And claimed it, — as he ought ! — 

And blessed his happy lot. 

Which now made earth 
An Eden, — every spot, — 

Since Beauty's birth; 
Whose smile still cheers his cot, 

His home and hearth; 
An angel — is she not? 



96 SELECT POEMS. 



HER LAST ADIEU. 

Adieu to him who loved me not ; 

Whose vow was insincere : 
The past — oh, let it be forgot, 

With all on earth that's dear ! 

The Silent Land — it is my home; 

And there I- soon shall rest, 
Where sorrows never, never come 

With sighs to heave the breast. , 

Adieu to earth ! When I am laid 

Within the narrow cell. 
Let words and funeral pomp be stayed, 

Nor toll the funeral-bell. 

Enough if but a friend be nigh 

To fling upon my bier 
A rose, that's tinted with the sky. 

Or shed for me a tear. 



HER LAST ADIEU. 97 

Speak not of cherished love untold, 

In death, a deathless flame; 
Nor let the marble pale and cold 

Record my humble name. 

Yet think of me whene'er you dream 

In holy twihght-hours, 
Or mark the star whose pensive beam 

Still cheers the meek-eyed flowers. 



98 SELECT POEMS. 



VERNAL WHISPERS. 

Born of the blushing Spring, 
Lo, Joy replumes his angel-wing ! 
With radiant loclcs the Hours advance, 
And violets wake from Winter's trance j 
While Beauty smiles with sunny glance, 

And birds ecstatic sing. 

Against a sky serene 
The quiet mountains seem to lean; 
While valleys woo, with pure delight. 
The genial sun, and dews of night; 
And Hope, with buds of promise bright, 

Embroiders all the scene. 

The sunshine and the showers 
Restore to Earth her bosom flowers, — 
The queenly rose that's virgin-lipped, 
The lily that in gold is dipped, 
The honey-bell that's oftenest sipped. 

And thyme that never towers. 



VERNAL WHISPERS. 99 

And now, from mantled hill, 
And cradled vale, and gushing rill. 
There breathes a music sweet and long. 
Which melts the soul like sacred song. 
And purifies the heart that's wrong, — 

The whisper small and still. 

Oh ! catch with listening ear 
The vernal whispers of the year, 
Whose breath, hke hope, revives the heart, 
And bids us act a nobler part. 
Nor leave behind a faithless chart 

When Autumn's leaf is sear. 



lOO SELECT POEMS. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

The stars were bright as at their birth, 
And angel- voices . thrilled the air ; 
When, spirit-like, and pure as fair, 

She came to bless our home on earth. 

Her new-born life, like budding flower, 
Awoke as from the slumbering night. 
And smiled to greet the morning light. 

And grew in love and artless power. 

And, with the lapse of speeding years. 
She grew in graces which adorn 
The woman, lovely as the morn, 

And beautiful 'mid hopes and fears. 

With modest mien, enchanting all. 
She seemed a vision from the sky, 
The cynosure of every eye 

In social sphere or festive hall. 



IN MEMORIAM. lOi 

Yet higher aims in Hfe she sought, 
And early chose that "better part," 
God's love, which purifies the heart 

When in the soul 'tis deeply wrought. 

Her smile was like a magic charm, 
A heavenly twilight blandly wove; 
And in an atmosphere of love 

She ever moved serene and calm. 

In Fashion's glare, or humbler sphere, 
Wherever souls have genial flow. 
Admirers paused, and whispered low 

Her praise in words which were sincere. 



And one there was, a man of heart. 
Of finest feelings, kind, yet brave, 
To whom her jewelled hand she gave ; 

Ay, gave her life, of his a part. 

And theirs was now a cloudless sky, 
With pleasing hopes and noble pride; 
For they were one, bridegroom and bride. 

Nor dreamed that aught could break the tie. 



102 SELECT POEMS. 

On rapturous wing the blest hours flew, 
With joys renewed as sped the day; 
And vernal flowers smiled on the way, 

And mountain-scenes entranced the view. 

Nor long awaiting their return, 

Friends welcomed them with earnest kiss, 
The purest, holiest earthly bhss, 

In homes where sacred altars bum. 



How joyous now the festive hour. 
When music cheered the lighted hall. 
And wreaths of flowers bedecked the wall. 

And Beauty smiled with witching power ! 

Yet many days passed not away 
Ere on their path a shadow fell. 
Whose mystic meaning none could tell, — 

A shadow that prolonged its stay. 

Full soon the final summons came, 
And o'er the River dark and wide 
Forever passed the sainted bride. 

Whose love still lives, a deathless flame. 



IN ME MORI AM. 103 

And he whose love had won her heart, 
And they who shared its kindred ties, 
Bemoaned her flight with tearful eyes, 

And bosoms pierced by Sorrow's dart. 

^Vhere now her dust in silence sleeps, 
There oft a footstep light is heard; 
And there as oft his soul is stirred 

Who truly loved, and, loving, weeps. 

There autumn sheds the faded leaf 
Upon that hallowed spot of earth, 
And there the vernal flower has birth. 

Emblems of her whose life was brief. 



There was she laid, with tender care. 
In bridal robes, — her last request, — 
The weary one now gone to rest. 

The loved, the beautiful, the fair ! 

Ah ! must it be ? — must we no more 
On earth behold her happy face. 
Her loving smile, and queenly grace, 

Nor hear her steps within our door? 



I04 SELECT POEMS. 

How oft she touched to pensive song 
The melting strings of her guitar, — 
Melting, like music from afar. 

In tones that linger, sweet and long ! 

Oh, how endeared each relic seems 
Which she has left behind to tell 
Of her sweet self, and which, like spell, 

Recalls her still in pleasing dreams ! 



SONG OF THE TEMPEST. 1 05 



SONG OF THE TEMPEST. 

Cloud-born, I visit earth, 

And on my way sublime 
I give to terror birth. 

Nor spare the sons of time. 
But in my wrath sweep o'er the land. 
And smite my foes with giant hand. 

Oh, yes ! with fearful stroke 

I smite the forest's pride, 
Uproot the stately oak. 

And score the mountain's side, 
And dash to earth, in frenzied hour, 
The abodes of men, with fane and tower. 

O'er land and sea I sweep. 

Unchained in mad career. 
Nor list to those who weep. 

But hurl the Hghtning's spear ; 
And, wrapped in clouds that still grow, black. 
Still scatter wrecks along my track, 



io6 SELECT POEMS. 

And thus, with crushing stride, 

I leave a record lone 
Of sorrow and of pride, 

Nor care my deeds to own; 
For passion fires my giddy brain * 
Until exhaustion ends my reign. 

But still — if understood — 

I do but fill my sphere ; 
Educe from evil good, 

And mark the fruitful year : 
Yet man distrusts the hand concealed 
That points my path o'er flood and field. 



MAN, 107 



MAN. 

What a mystical vision is he, 

In a "house" built of "clay," — 

Haunted house that is locked with a key, 
And the "key" thrown away! 

What a mystical vision is he. 

With his heart in a " chest," 
And a " hinge " in his suppHant knee, 

And a " sole " ne'er at rest ! 

What a mystical vision is he, 

With a "drum" in his ear. 
And a " font " in his eye ever free 

To o'erflow with a tear ! 

What a mystical vision is he. 

With a " palm " in his hand. 
And the "lines" of his fate as you see, — 

Still the " lord " of the land ! 



io8 SELECT POEMS. 

What a mystical vision is he, 

With a "pipe" in his throat, — 
Often piping a song of glee. 

Or a sad, sad note ! 

What a mystical vision is he. 

With his hands and his feet 
Pierced' with "nails" like his Lord on the tree, 

And a "beard" like the wheat! 

What a mystical vision is he 

When a "lid" shuts his eye. 
And his "ghost" pays to Charon a fee 

That is stamped with a " die " ! 

What a mystical vision is he, 

Whether living or dead ! 
Still a man, or a god it may be. 

With a "crown" on his head. 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 1 09 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 

With all their virtues plain and stem, 
The good old times have sped; 

And now the wisdom which we learn 
Turns giddy every head : 

And yet 'tis wrong, I ween, to spurn 
Our old ancestral dead. 

Our Pilgrim sires were taught of God, 
And solemn psalms they sung : 

They trained their children with the rod, 
And witch and wizard hung. 

Yet, if they erred, 'tis nothing odd : 
All err, both old and young. 

They earned by toil whate'er they had. 
Since Heaven ordained it so ; 

Nor with the fashions went they mad, 
Nor cramped they waist or toe ; 

Nor Hke the hly, pale and sad. 
Looked every belle and beau. 



no SELECT POEMS. 

The girls were taught to spin and weave, 

The boys to hold the plough : 
'Twas then thought wise — and I believe 

As wise it might be now — 
If people would their scheming leave, 

And live by sweat of brow. 

The good old times were good enough. 
Though times more polished dawn : 

Men then were made of sterner stuff- 
Than those that now are born. 

Though plain they were, and somewhat rough, 
Yet why their virtues scorn? 

In groups that grace the parlor wall. 

How pleasant still to see 
The dear old portraits, which recall 

Our honored ancestry ! — 
Grandparents, uncles, aunts, and all. 

Who danced us on the knee. 

Oh, yes ! I still remember well 

My grandsire's aged look ; 
The witching tales he deigned to tell; 

And how from sacred Book 
He oft explained why Adam fell. 

And man the right forsook. 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. II I 

He used to wear a broad-brimmed hat; 

A buckle gemmed each knee. 
The old arm-chair in which he sat 

It cheers me still to see : 
With powdered wig and cue, all that, 

None looked so grave as he. 

His was a high and manly brow, 

With locks of silver gray : 
He ne'er to Britain's pride would bow, 

Nor for her king e'en pray; 
Nor would he yield, like statesmen now, 

His principles for pay. 

But, strong of limb, and brave at heart. 

He swung a brawny arm, 
And promptly bore a hero's part 

'Mid danger and alarm ; 
And, though oft pierced by Sorrow's dart, 

His manner still was calm. 

He loved to tell his history o'er. 
And speak of War's dread crimes. 

And laud the deeds he did of yore, 
Which beat all modem times. 

The worldly goods he left in store 
All heirs could ask, save dimes ! 



^ 



112 SELECT POEMS. 

Though poor, he was a patriot true ; 

Had fought m Freedom's cause ; 
And all he owed he paid when due, -^- 

His debt to Nature's laws : 
In fact, from earth have passed but few 

With heart as free from flaws. 

If 'midst old graves you choose to tramp, 

You still may read in print. 
Upon his headstone cold and damp, 

This brief yet truthful hint : — 
"Here hes a man of Nature's stamp, 

The coinage of her mint." 

But what of her who wore a cap. 
And hoop to swell her skirt? — 

Dear grandam, who with many a chap. 
When young, inclined to flrr_t; 

And e'en in age, whate'er might hap. 
Seemed girlish, prim, and pert. 

Though seeming gay, she used to read 

Her Bible with delight. 
And deeply felt that mortals need 

God's grace to keep them right : 
Always, with heart that seemed to bleed, 

She said her prayers at night. 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS, 113 

She led a life none need despise, 

Affectionate and kind; 
And, under holy guidance wise. 

Her duty sought to find; . 
And oft relieved, with pitying eyes. 

The poor, the halt, the blind. 

When very old, her length of nose 

Hung sword-like o'er her chin. 
Yet she was cheerful to life's close. 

Though but a shadow thin; 
Oft rocked my cradle, I suppose; 

And loved to knit and spin. 

The most I recollect of her 

Is, how she used to try. 
With pointed thread half lost in blur, 

To hit her needle's eye ; 
And, though vexations would occur, 

She ne'er indulged a sigh. 

The good old lady has been dead 

Some thirty years at least : 
The stone is carved, that guards her head, 

With cherubs gazing east; 
And where she sleeps but few now tread : 

The worm has had its feast. 



114 SELECT POEMS. 

Uncle, who was a favorite son, 

For riches never toiled : 
Though he in youth loved mirth and fun, 

And sports that oft recoiled, 
Yet what was wrong he aimed to shun, 

And ne'er his morals soiled. 

But, when parental power had lost 

O'er him its kind control, 
He rarely stopped to count the cost, 

The worth of time or soul, 
But onward floated, tempest-tost. 

Where'er Life's wave might roll. 

His head with many a vision swam : 
The world he longed to see ; 

Or Greenland's isle, or land of Ham, 
It mattered not, so he, 

No longer tethered like the lamb, 
Could rove unchecked and free. 

Ere twenty-one, most foreign lands 

'Tis said that he had seen. 
Though fearful still of wedlock's bands, 

At forty, as I ween, 
He sometimes thought of joining hands ; 

What did the fellow mean? 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. II 5 

However strange, the truth to say, 

Love's vow at last he made, 
And sealed it too, one eve in May, 

With her who graced the glade; 
And ever, from that 'happy day, 

He led a life that's staid. 

Whate'er may be by prudes required. 

Who join in nuptial state, 
He proved the model man desired, 

And she the loving mate; 
And, blest of Heaven, they ne'er grew tired 

Of " little cares " or great. 

But stronger grew the silken tie 

As sped their happy years; 
And, with their treasures laid on high, 

They banished all their fears; 
And, when at last they came to die. 

Were mourned with many tears. 

If half they say of aunt be true, 

Her youthful charms were rare : 
Her teeth were pearl, her eyes were blue, 

And auburn was her hair ; 
Her lip a rosebud bathed in dew; 

Her brow angelic, fair. 



Il6 SELECT POEMS. 

Never had maid a prettier hand, 

Or daintier foot, than she ; 
Nor rosier cheek had zephyr fanned 

Than hers, as all agree : 
Her smile was like a seraph's bland, 

Her footstep light and free. 

With thumb and finger, you would think 
Her waist that you could span. 

She knew just when 'twould do to wink. 
Or smile, behind her fan : 

Ay, hers were charms whose magic link 
'Twas hard to break, young man ! 

She dreamed of one — an idle dream — 
Whose look her fancy pleased : 

Though but a dream, she did not seem 
By his indifference teased. 

But clung to hope till hope's last gleam 
Had left her heart diseased. 

When rouge supplants the artless rose. 

And life's a wintry sea. 
None "but an ancient maiden knows 

How pleasant it must be 
To hear a gentleman propose. 

And see him bend the knee ! 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 117 

Ah ! who can tell with what desire 
Aunt wished her years were stayed, 

When youth had lost its subtle fire, 
And charms began to fade? 

Yet ripening years saw her expire 
A lily in the shade. 

And thus have all of that dear throng, 
Who cheered the ancestral hearth, 

When I was young, and love was strong. 
And pure as flowers at birth, 

Now trod the lonely way that's long. 
Nor more will visit earth. 

When I return to earth's dull mould, 

Perhaps some kindred dear 
Will smile to hear my foibles told. 

And think my portrait queer : 
Nor matters it, if, when unrolled. 

Life's record still be clear. 



Ii8 SELECT POEMS. 



THE REALM OF THOUGHT. 

Around that realm there flames a wall 

No mortal foot hath scaled; 
Nor through its gleaming turrets tall 

Hath tempest ever wailed. 

A place of holy rest it seems, 

A palace built for souls, — 
Great souls that realize their dreams 

'Mid light that boundless rolls; 

Great souls that here have nobly wrought 
Their task, transferred at last. 

There to partake, where truth is taught, 
An infinite repast. 



THE MUSIC OF THE RAIN, 119 



THE MUSIC OF THE RAIN. 

Now falling, falling from the sky, 
There comes a pleasant strain. 

That lights with joy the floweret's eye, — 
The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling on the roof, 

And on the window-pane, 
It breathes of love that needs no proof, — 

The music of the rain. 

And' falling, falling down in showers, 

It cheers the waving grain, 
And gives delight to summer hours, — 

The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling in its mirth, 

It wakes to life again 
The fainting world of lovely birth, — 

The music of the rain. 



I20 SELECT POEMS. 

And falling, falling sweet and low, 

It falls on hill and plain, 
And speeds the rills that dancing flow, 

The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling from the eaves, 

It mingles its refrain 
With his who waits to gather sheaves, - 

The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling far and near. 

It never falls in vain : 
Oh, welcome then, with heart sincere. 

The music of the rain ! 



ASPIRATION. 1 2.1 



ASPIRATION. 

Be mine a faith and hope whose tendrils twine 
With buds and blossoms in a land divine, 
Where spring but flowers that drink the genial dew, 
And greet the sainted soul with welcome true; 
Perennial flowers, whose pensive grace untold 
Proclaims the power of love that's manifold; 
The love that flows from out the central heart 
Of Life unseen, yet flowing doth impart 
To life that's seen its own diviner charm 
Of moral beauty, with its healing balm; 
Perennial flowers, that bloom in heavenly hght. 
And, ever fragrant, chmb from height to height, 
Where, free to all, a viewless hand unbars 
The gate that leads to mansions built of stars. 



122 . SELECT POEMS. 



SHADOWS. 

In truth, all things beneath the sky 

But shadows seem, — 
Shadows that catch the dazzled eye. 
Mere shadows swiftly gliding by, 

False as a dream. 

And yet, though false, they often cheer 

Hours dark to me : 
Yes, often mirrored in a tear 
I see familiar faces dear. 

No more to be. 

Still all are shadows, man or flower. 

Passing. with time; 
All, — e'en the mountain's unsealed tower, 
That awes the earth with mystic power 

Lone and sublime. 

And yet, of sainted loved ones meek, 
Shadows are cast 



SHADOWS. • 123 

From skies that ne'er grow chill or bleak; 
Shadows that seem, heart-touched, to speak 
Of years now past ; 

Shadow^s that stalk close at my side, 

Life-Hke as truth; 
Shadows in which I still confide; 
Shadows that dance on life's dark tide; 

Shadows of youth; 

Shadows of nymphs that trod the vale. 

And culled its flowers; 
Shadows that loved the stars to hail. 
And paused to hear the brooklet's wail, 

In moonlit hours; 

Shadows of joys flown long ago 

With happier days; 
Shadows of hours I ne'er shall know; . 
Shadows of hopes no more to glow. 

Shorn of their rays; 

Shaddws of memories ever blest, 

Though pensive all; 
Shadows that come at my behest, 
With healing power to soothe my breast, 

Whate'er befall. 



^24 SELECT POEMS. - 

Ah me ! how oft have shadows brought 

One message more 
From realms of bhss to souls untaught, 
Prophetic of the change that's wrought 

When life is o'er ! 



A VISION OF LIGHT. 1 25 



A VISION OF LIGHT. 

When the winter departs, 

Oh, how pleasant a thing 
'Tis to greet the first flower . 

That appears in the spring ! 

» 

Still a vision of light, 

Lo ! it comes but to cheer 
Winter's last lingering step 

With a smile that is dear. 

And with joy, fi-om- the cup 

Of the silvery dew, 
It imbibes nectared sweets, 

Ever pure, fresh, and new, - 

Timely food sent to earth 
From a fount in the sky 

In response to the prayer 
Of a calm, dreamy eye. 



126 SELECT POEMS. 

Thus the flower looks aloft 
To the stars of the night 

With a faith that is pure, 

And a brow crowned with light. 

Though its life be a dream, 
And its days but a few, 

Yet, like saint, it has hope. 
With a love breathed for you. 

O ye proud of the earth ! 

From the flower meekly learn 
How to live, how to die. 

And be blessed in return. 



LAURA. 127 



LAURA. 

The moment his leave he had taken, 

She flew from the parlor in haste, 
With her nerves like an aspen quite shaken; 

Yet the secret was much to her taste. 
"Oh! what is the matter, my dear?" 

Cried the mother, all .pale with affright; 
And Laura began to look queer, 

And to stammer, while blushing outright : - 

"Frank asked me — I did not expect it — 

The question / I thought I should faint ! 
Such an offer! — oh! can I reject it? 

'Tis enough to discourage a saint. 
Mow shall I determine his case? 

'Tis true that I love him too well; 
But they say I've a beautiful face, 

And you know I'm considered a belle. 

"Besides, there are forty or more 

With whom it is pleasant to flirt; 
And they all still profess to adore, — 



128 SELECT POEMS. 

Would kiss e'en the hem of my skirt. 
I'm alarmed at the hazard I run; 

So distracted, I hardly can speak ; 
I'll tell him I thought him in fun 

When he calls for an answer next week. 

" But I'm fearful 'that never will do : 

His manner was frank and sincere : 
An answer that's candid is due ; 

And yet it will cost me a tear. 
. Let me think — ah ! I think I'll say 'No ! ' 

With Harry I love to play chess; 
Yet, my hand were I now to bestow, 

A fopling it never should bless. 

"As to Frank, I will treat him the same. 

And perhaps I will wed him at last. 
But, when I consider how tame 

Are the married, I'm stricken aghast. 
And conclude in the girlhood of Hfe 

That I'll still be a butterfly gay: 
When I choose, I will then be a wife ; 

Yet I might marry dozens to-day." 

And thus, with a toss of her head, 
•She made up her mind in a hurry. 



LAURA. 129 

Frank called, and began to look red; 

Yet Laura, although in a flurry, 
Received him, of course, with a smile ; 

Then talked of the last evening's rout : 
But Frank, after listening awhile, 

Resolved to remove the last doubt. 

But still she persisted in talking 

Of the rout, and the fashions, and dance ; 
While Frank, as he rose to be walking, 

Still lingered, half lost in a trance ; 
When, wreathing her lip to say "No I" 

Somehow, with a charming address, 
She softened the word in its flow. 

And, lisping, replied to him, "Yes/" 



130 SELECT POEMS. 



SONG OF THE DIME. 

Though but a dime, a simple dime, 

I run a bright career. 
And have a voice whose silvery chime, 

Like music, wins the ear. 

Where'er I go, I'm still received 
With ready, grasping hand ; 

The rich, the poor, and the bereaved 
My mission understand. 

Yet ere I can my mission prove, 

Though never seeking rest. 
The miser, with a miser's love. 

Oft locks me in his chest. 

Imprisoned there I'm doomed to wait, 

Still sighing to be free. 
Until the tyrant yields to fate, 

And heirs obtain the key. 



SONG OF THE DIME. 131 

In social circles, high and low, 

I have a wide, wide range ; 
And still am sought, as you may know, 

By those who seek for "change." 

A changing life it is I lead; 

And, though grown old and thin, 
I still remain a slave indeed. 

Nor favors hope to win. 

In ways that seem at first but small. 

Large fortunes oft I spend; 
Amass them too, when saving all 

I find a faithful friend. 

Yet many an orphan's heart I cheer 

With stinted loaves of bread, 
And oft illume the widow's tear 

In pensive silence shed. 

And yet the widow, poor indeed, 

Oft casts me, as her mite, 
In aid of those who still have need 

Of gospel truth and light. 

And thus from hand to hand I go, 
And do what good I can : 



132 SELECT POEMS. 

Yet much I do, in idle show, 
For woman and for man; 

Nor cease to learn from day to day, 

As I enact my part, 
How few are they who care to weigh 

The motives of the heart. 



THE AUTUMN LEAF. I33 



THE AUTUMN LEAF. 

In you, frail leaf, 
The lone and last on yonder tree, 
Methinks, revealed, I clearly see 
The life that's pure, — its harmony 

And golden sheaf. 

And, though you wear 
A pensive look, I still can trace 
A saintly smile upon your face, 
Betokening faith, — a work of grace 

That cheers despair. 

To Hfe's last bound. 
Though tremulous has been your flight. 
Still you have won a crown that's bright. 
And, clad in gems, oft danced at night 

A giddy round, — 

Danced to the sigh 
Of zephyr's lute, *mid summer air ; 



134 SELECT POEMS. 

Nor dreamed that you were doomed to share 
A frosty kiss, so calm and fair 
Appeared the sky. 

But now, grown old, 
'Tis yours to fall as fell your peers, 
And mingle with the dust of seers ; 
Yet live again, and in far years 

New charms unfold. 

'Twas but the breath 
Of vernal hours that quickened you : 
'Tis but a breath divine and true 
That quickens man, and will renew 

His life in death. 



LAYING THE CORNER-STONE. 135 



LAYING THE CORNER-STONE. 

[WEITTEN BY REQUEST.] 

Father of light, entlironed on high, 
Thine is an ever-watchful care 

O'er all who dwell beneath the sky, 
And thine an ear that heareth prayer. 

To thee we here with willing hand, 
And cheerful hearts allied as one, 

A temple rear to bless our land, 
And reverent lay the corner-stone. 

'Tis here that we our vows will pay 
As fleeting roll our earthly years; 

And, led by faith that points the way. 
Ne'er yield our hopes to doubting fears. 

'Tis here that we will speak thy love, ^ 
And sing thy praise in sacred song. 

Invoke the spirit of the dove. 

And still in faith and hope grow strong. 



13.6 SELECT POEMS. 

And here to thee our hearts still give, 
And wait until from earth and strife 

Thy voice shall bid us rise and live, 
Heirs of a purer, better life. 



INSCRUTABLE. 137 



INSCRUTABLE. 

Old Ocean, source of mystic power, 

I love thy solemn hymn, 
The hollowed murmurs of thy lip, 

And saddened memories dim. 
Yet shrink to meet thy terrors grim. 

Nor marvel that thine own dark waves 

Refuse to give thee rest; 
For thine are dark, mysterious deeds, 

Born of a troubled breast. 
Still unatoned and unconfessed. 

And yet methinks kind sympathies 
With human hearts are thine; 

A wish to soothe the wail of grief, — 
The grief that's ever mine 

For her whose form thy depths enshrine. 



138 SELECT POEMS, 



EVER VAIN. 

Ever vain the pursuit 
After pleasures that fly, 
And bequeath but a sigh, 
With a tear in our eye : 
Ashes the fruit ! 

Ever vain the pursuit, 
Amid dreams that entrance, 
After phantoms that dance, 
After fame, — a mere chance 
Ashes the fruit ! 

Ever vain the pursuit. 
Amid grief from the first, 
After bubbles that burst. 
After treasures that rust : 
Ashes the fruit ! 



TACIT LANGUAGE. I39 



TACIT LANGUAGE. 

When eye for eye is glancing, 

Oft deep emotions rise, 
Intwined with thoughts entrancing 

Whose memory never dies. 

When sigh for sigh is heaving. 
Oft joy with grief is blent ; 

But, when fond hopes are leaving, 
How sad the heart's lament ! 

When smile for smile is lighting 

The fair angeUc brow. 
On lips that seem inviting 

Who would not seal his vow? 

When tear for tear is flowing. 
Its light fulj oft reveals 

A cherished love that's glowing, 
Which still the lip conceals. 



I40 SELECl^ POEMS. 

When heart for heart is beating, 
Its language must be true : 

The heart cannot be cheating 
That only beats for you. 



A CONCEIT. 141 



A CONCEIT. 

Old Father Time, with nod sublime, 

And hammer in his hand, 
Proclaims aloud, as from a cloud, 

The sale of sea and land. 

With hammer in his hand. 

Ask not for grace, but take your place^ 

And hear him cry the sale : 
He speaks in tones that shatter thrones. 

Nor lists to those who wail. 

Ah, hear him cry the sale ! 

Before him lies full many a prize 

In rich array displayed : 
Yes, all that's dear to mortals here. 

Of life, its light and shade. 

In rich array displayed. 

He breaks life's spell, nor grieves to sell 
Fond hopes to which we cling,— 



142 SELECT POEMS. 

Honor and fame, and wealth and name, — 
Vain things : what will they bring ? 
Fond hopes to which we cling ! 

He spareth nought, not e'en a thought, 

Though beautiful and true. 
But strikes down all, then flings a pall, 

And screens the world from view. 

The beautiful and true. 

Nor does he wait at heaven's high gate, 

Nor does he shed a tear, 
But breaks the bars, and smites the stars, 

And dark grows every sphere : 

Nor does he shed a tear. 

But doomed now dies, 'neath blackened skies, 

Remembered nevermore; 
And now, downcast, the silent Past 

In darkness hides her store, — 

Remembered nevermore. 



LILIES. 143 



LILIES. 

If the stars are but footprints 
Where the angels have trod, 

What are maidens but lihes 
In the garden of God? 

What but daughters of hght, 
Who in silence declare 

Their devotion and love, 

With heads bowed in prayer? 

But, if lilies " toil not," 

How is it they weave 
A wreath of sweet smiles. 

Yet deign to deceive? 

While they flaunt, and seem gay. 
In their raiment of gold, 

Why at heart are they sad 
With a "secret untold"? 



144 SELECT POEMS. 



HOME OF MY YOUTH. 

A STRANGER in my native land, 

I none but strangers see ; 
Not one who seeks to grasp my hand, 

For none remember me. 

Although received with chilling pride 

In this my native clime, 
I have not now a heart to chide 

The changes wrought by time, 

But still regard with tearful eye 

The shadows of the past. 
The home of youth, whose magic sky. 

Though dimmed, is not o'ercast. 

For I have seen beneath its roof 

Full many a happy day, 
And heard from saintly lips the proof 

Of love that lasts for aye. 



HOME OF MY YOUTH. 145 

Yet nevermore shall I behold 

The years which now have flown, 

Whose wings were wrought with threads of gold 
Bright as an angel's own. 



But,, yielding still to impulse strong 

That binds me in its band, 
I turn to mountains loved so long, 

And kiss to them my hand; 

And o'er paternal acres fair. 
That stretch beneath the sun. 

Still trace the shadows ghding there. 
And mourn what time has done. 

And yet I greet with joy the rill 
That flows from out the cave. 

And winds its way adown the hill. 
Singing its ancient stave ; 

* 

And bless the aged chestnut-tree. 

Where oft at earliest dawn 
I gathered wealth, — then wealth to me, 

Nor treat its gifts with scorn; 



146 SELECT POEMS. 

Nor shun the orchard, where of yore, 

Beneath an autumn sky, 
I shared so oft the golden store 

That charmed my roving eye. 

And thus,' in passing o'er the lea, 

I pause at many a spot, -r- 
Haunts which it gives me joy to see. 

Though changed is now my lot. 

Ha ! there's the vine, the wild grape-vine, 

In which I sat and swung 
With her whose arm stole into mine 

In days when both were young. 

Nor dreamed we then of happier hours, 

Nor happier have I seen; 
For then life's path was strewn with flowers, 

And youth's bright sky serene. 

And here once more old paths I tread 
In meadow, grove, and glade. 

And pause 'neath elms whose leafy head 
Still casts a grateful shade. 



HOME OF MY YOUTH. 147 

In yonder glen the mountain- stream 

Propels the old mill-wheel; 
And in good faith, as still would seem, 

The miller shares the meal. 



Angling in depths to eddies wrought, 

Below the mill-dam's foam, 
HoAv oft the dainty trout I've caught, 

And borne in triumph home ! 

When Autumn with her golden hue 
Enriched the woodland's crown, 

How oft with fatal aim and true 
I've "brought the squirrel down ; 

Oft traced the pheasant to her glen. 

And set the subtle snare. 
In which when caught, like luckless men. 

She dangled in the au: ! 

Though skies may lower, the fitful gleams 

Of earlier, happier days 
Still come to me like pleasant dreams, 

Tinged with celestial rays. 



148 SELECT POEMS. 

Yet, 'mid this vision of the past, 

Not one of all my race 
Remains to cheer this lone and last 

Look at my native place. 

And yet I love the sacred • shrine 

Of olden memories dear, 
And, lingering, dream of joys once mine, 

Though but a wanderer here ; 



In yonder churchyard trace the print 

Of names I honor still, 
And from them take the warning hint 

Which time will soon fulfil. 

Albeit familiar friends still live, 
Who seem to bless me yet, 

And who to me a welcome give 
Which I can ne'er forget. 

I mean the smiling brook that flows 

To music's silver tone. 
The rock and hill, and sweet wild-rose. 

Whose love I'm proud to own. 



HOME OF MY YOUTH. 149 

Nor are they shadows dim to sight, 

Whose hps still breathe of woe, 
But stanch old friends, whose hearts are right. 

True friends to me, I know. 

None truer than the hills and plains, 

The brooklet, tree, and flower, 
And birds that sing in happy strains, 

Unconscious of their power. 

For Nature and her children speak 

In language that's divine, 
And calmly teach me to be meek, . 

And never to repine. 



150 SELECT POEMS. 



MORE SPACE. 

Give Freedom space, more space ; 

Her proud domain extend; 
But ne'er a step retrace ; 

Her blood-bought soil defend. 

Space for the brave, more space, 
O'er continent and sea : 

Send forth Columbia's race. 
Her sons of Liberty. 

Space for her eaglets, space, 
In other climes to soar, — 

Soar in the sun's bright face. 
Heralds from every shore. 

Space for her banner, space. 
On every breeze to float. 

While tyrants trembling trace 
Their fate not far remote. 



MORE SPACE. 151 

Space for the free, more space ! 

Ay, space for every man 
Who dares to fill his place, 

Godlike, in Nature's plan. 

Give Freedom space, more space; 

Her proud domain extend; 
But ne'er a step retrace ; 

For God is Freedom's friend. 



152 SELECT POEMS. 



EARTH'S LORE. 

Methinks the earth a book 
Sealed up for ages, 

Till Science deigned to look 
Into its pages, 

Searching for truths mistook 
By ancient sages. 

The volume sure was writ 
With His own hand 

Whose brow is ever knit 

With thought unscanned, 

And who with stars has lit 
The Better Land. 

No book hath clearer print, 
None richer bound,— r- 

All wisdom without stint, 
A work profound, 

Which gives for every hint 
A reason sound, 



EARTH'S LORE. 153 

And fills with pure desire 

The soul unfed; 
And e'en reveals entire 

The primal dead, 
Baptized in molten fire 

At periods dread ; 

Footprints where birds have trod, 

Burnt hills and dells 
Once clad with mould and sod. 

And ferns and shells, 
And pines that joyed to nod 

In sea-like swells ; 

And dark, unfathomed lakes, 

Where far and wide, 
'Mid falHng fiery flakes, 

Grim monsters died. 
Ingulfed by dread earthquakes 

Beneath the tide. 

Ah*! who that still aspires 

Earth's lore to read. 
Can find, in prophet sires. 

All man doth need 
To sate enlarged desires. 

Or fix his creed? 



154 SELECT POEMS, 

He dwells in every flower, 

In every place, 
Who crowns with life each hour, 

And gives it grace. 
And bids us trace His power 

Still face to face. 



FREEDOM, 155 



FREEDOM. 



I. 



Ah ! who recalls the dark, unhallowed deeds 
Which mark the sterner ages long gone by, 
Nor starts at wrongs o'er which the heart still bleeds 
When despots reigned, and bade their victims die, 
And vainly flowed the tear from Pity's eye? 
Though ours an age that's brighter, happier far. 
Yet half mankind still bow, they know not why. 
To sceptred power, or creeds they dare not mar ; 
Nor yet perceive the light that beams from Freedom's 
star. 

n. 

But why despair. There lives a spark divine 
Within man's breast, surviving earth and tears; 
And, where the moral virtues rear their shrine. 
There heart to heart the social tie endears ; 
While Hope, whose star illumes the coming years. 
Inspires with loftier aims and nobler zeal 
Man's faith in man, and dissipates hi§ fears, 



156 SELECT POEMS. 

And nerves his- arm to strike 'mid clashing steel 
For God and Truth, though empires to their centres 
reel. 

III. 

With smiling brow, and hp that breathed of peace, 
From Eden's sheltering bowers nymph-like she 
came, 

- Nor found a genial clime, until in Greece 
She there of yore acquired a glorious name, — 
Freedom, whose pilgrimage is still of fame, 
And 'neath whose banner heroes fought and bled, 
Hurling the tyrants down to dust and shame 
Who scourged the land in which the Arts were bredj 

The land where still enshrined repose the mighty 
. dead ! 

IV. 

In that illustrious age when Athens shone, 
And men the powers of earth and air adored, 
There breathed a martial spirit now unknown ; 
And long, with undipped wing, that spirit soared, 
While human breasts with high resolves were stored, 
And valiant deeds were done of great renown ; 
An age in which mankind preferred the sword. 
And heroes strove to cleave stern heroes down. 
Nor yet appeased the gods, who swayed by smile or 
frown. 



FREEDOM. 157 

V. 

Then came an age as sparkling as its wine, 
With mysteries which took the form of creeds, 
And vows were paid at many an honored shrine, 
• While passion swayed the heart, and moral weeds. 
Like noxious plants that broadcast sow their seeds, 
Struck deep in genial soil, and rankher grew ; 
Yet gods conversed with men, and Faith, that heeds 
The marvellous, believed, howe'er untrue, 
The dark responses which from unseen lips she drew. 

A 

VI. 

Temples, from heights revered, o'erlooked the plain ; 
And patient Art, endowed with magic powers. 
Gave unto Parian marble life and brain, 
And sympathies which link the circling hours 
Of time with classic beauty and with flowers ; 
Symbols which still attract our wondering eyes, 
And still recall the listening groves and bowers 
Where sages calmly walked in humble guise, 
And held discourse with youth, and taught them to 
be wise. 

VII. 

And thus devout the philosophic Greek, 
Who loved his templed hills and sunny vales, 



158 SELECT POEMS. 

Bequeathed to man, with spirit ever meek, 
Doctrines profound whose logic still entails 
Its wealth, — a power that will, till blight assails 
The earth, expand, and chasten human thought; 
And yet how saddening were the hopeless wails 
Uttered of old, when cruel deeds were wrought. 
And tyrants gave command, and faith was sold and 
bought ! 

VIII. 

Yet he who aimed at empire ne'er had dreamed. 
When Rome's foundations were by him begun,*^ 
What lasting glory o'er him distant streamed 
The while his warlike deeds were nobly done. 
And stratagem the Sabine women won ; 
But when the city from her throne of hills 
Beheld her fire-eyed eagles pierce the sun, 
She seized on power that does whate'er it wills, 
Nor kept her plighted faith, nor heeded human ills. 

IX. 

Still, in her better days, stern men were bred, — 
Patriots who loved their country but too well, 
And who unawed the flame of Freedom fed, 
Till luxury and vice, with conquering spell, 
Crept in, and fearful woes the. state befell. 



FREEDOM. 159 

And yet the Eternal City lives, though shorn 
Of ancient power, her name and fame to tell ; 
While 'mid her ruins shadows stalk forlorn, 
And point at her degenerate sons with silent scorn. 

X. 

Alas ! with all his pride and pomp and power, 
The law of love nor Greek nor Roman knew : 
Though martial glory crowned his triumph hour 
'Mid trophies which attracted public view. 
Though oft proclaimed a hero brave and true, 
'Twas not enough ; for his ambition's aim 
Still fired his soul, as still the sword he drew; 
And thus led on by that enchantress. Fame, 
He sought to rank with gods, and craved a deathless 
name. 

XI. 

Freedom, whose cradle was the fearful storm. 
As ages rolled, and darkness slow retired, 
Maintained her faith, and, with affections warm, 
Became at length of holier truths inspired, 
And, clad in sacred armor, never tired, 
But still, with frenzied eye and proud disdain, 
Repelled her foes, and won a fame desired; 
Nor from her shield erased the crimson stain, 
But wide, and wider still, extended her domain. 



i6o SELECT POEMS. 



xn. 



And men grew wiser, better, as the flame 
On Freedom's altar burned with clearer light; 
And though dark years with darker errors came, 
And fierce crusades with hate and venomed spite,. 
Though many a hero, mail-clad, fell in fight, 
Yet Christian temples rose to bless the land. 
While truth prevailed by force of moral might; 
And, as the slumbering fires of faith were fanned. 
E'en mitred priest at last relaxed his grasping hand. 

xin. 

And moral heroes, weaned from mystic fear, 
Flung off disguise, and strove with iron will 
Their favorite creeds to herald far and near: 
Yet strife begat but strife, with woes that chill 
The manliest heart, 'mid scenes of glen and hill, 
Where many a martyr, rash in conflict, fell. 
And tinged with crimson flowed the mountain rill ; 
And where, 'mid desolation's brooding spell. 
The spirit of the past, still ruthless, seems to dwell. 

XIV. 

'Twas thus, in proudest lands of earlier time, 
When Freedom held at best imperfect sway. 



FREEDOM. i6l 

That seeds were sov/n, which -\jt\. in every cHme 
Will spring to life as dawns the genial day, 
When kings retire, and slavish creeds give way. 
But when from Europe sailed her daring son, 
Who sought and found in all its wild array 
A Western world, how great the blessing won ! 
How great in years which yet shall in their circles run ! 

XV. 

What though in later times the queenly isle, 
That jealous mistress of the treasured sea, 
Assumed an unrelenting power the while, 
And bade her subjects bend a suppliant knee ; 
What though she did not leave opinions free : 
There lived stern men e'en then, an honest few, 
Who, taught by conscience, ever scorned to be 
The dupes of royal pride ; their rights they knew, 
And, knowing them, remained to God and" Freedom 
true. 

XVI. 

The Puritans, so called with meaning sneer. 
Had struggled long and daringly, though vain. 
Against the sceptre's scourge : nor ceased they here ; 
For Hope had flung her rainbow o'er the main. 
And pointed to a land without a stain. 
But still the pure affections of the heart 



1 62 SELECT POEMS. 

Endeared to them the mountain and the plain, 
Their native clime, from which 'twas hard to part 
And leave their fathers' graves for wilds where terrors 
start. 

XVII. 

Yet when relentless wrong hath nerved the arm, 
And stirred the soul, and waked the spirit there, 

' Men break their chains ; nor can the tyrant calm 
The rising storm, nor curb the brave who dare 
Defend their dearest rights with bosoms bare. 
How blest the world when tyranny shall yield 
To stern reform, and all the nations share 
A purer faith, and, trusting in the shield 

Of virtue, see a manhood nobler yet revealed ! 

XVIII. 

The Pilgrims now convened on ocean's strand. 
And knelt to Heaven, yet lingered long to gaze 
On friends and skies they loved, hke Israel's band 
Whose pathway was the sea in ancient days. 
The parting hour had come : beneath the blaze 
Of autumn's sun they bade a last farewell 
To Britain's isle, and launched without amaze 
Upon the billowy deep where dangers dwell. 
And spread their sails to winds that sighed o'er 
ocean's swell. 



FREEDOM. 163 

XIX. 

Westward the star of empire took its way, 
Destined to glow within a broader sky, 
And flash with hght which yet shall fling its ray 
Afar o'er earth's domain where shadows lie. 
Inspiring hope and joy that will not die. 
Yes, with a faith which gave them faith in man. 
Heroes upon that star now fixed their eye, 
And in the future saw the God-like plan 
Which God himself had traced, as on they led the 
van. 

XX. 

Hope gave them cheer, and "waved her golden hair." ^ 
Onward the voyagers ploughed the trackless sea, 
'Mid storm and tempest and the lightning's glare, 
Resolved to bend to none but God the knee. 
And after many days they joyed to see 
Columbia's hills ; nor yielded to the shock 
When woodlands rang with shouts of savage glee ; 
But calm and trustful still that Pilgrim flock 
Now disembarked, and consecrated Plymouth Rock ; 

XXI. 

The rock that's firmly planted by the sea, 
Prescribing bounds where proudest waves are stayed ; 



1 64 SELECT POEMS. 

The landmark which was set to liberty 
When earth's foundations broad and deep were laid ; 
The rock on which erst stepped the Pilgrim maid ^ 
Who led the way with smiles that ever cheer; 
The spot that's guarded still by Freedom's blade ; 
Where oft the ,patriot drops a grateful tear, 
And breathes the honored names of those who slumber 
near, — 

xxn. 

Names that will live when centuries depart, 
And still in moral virtue faith inspire. 
And back to many a patriot's throbbing heart 
Respond with balmy lip, as child to sire. 
Waking within the soul the hallowed fire 
That ever prompts the brave, who dare reclaim 
Their Heaven-born rights, despite the tyrant's ire. 
'Twas here the Pilgrims reared with purest aim 
Altars to God, and lit them up with Freedom's flame. 

XXIII. 

Though girt with forests and a mountain chain 
Whose slopes and glens, and secret caverns dark, 
Had ever been the red man's wild domain. 
The Pilgrims clung to hope's expiring spark. 
And struggled with their foes, and set the mark 



FREEDOM. 165 

Of empire there on Ocean's circling strand, 
And, like the chosen few who left the ark, * 
Went forth to scatter blessings through the land. 
And rear the tree of Liberty with fostering hand. 

XXIV. 

When Freedom, plumed for glory's bright career, 
Had been restrained, there woke a quenchless flame ; 
And men stood forth, unawed by taunt or sneer. 
Who sought the battle-field, and won a name 
That will not die, — a proud, immortal fame. 
Dread days ! when rallying trump and drum were 

heard. 
And traitors bore, like Cain, the mark of shame 
Upon their brows ; when Britain's ire was stirred. 
And e'en the patriot's hope seemed hopelessly deferred. 

XXV. 

Yet sentiments that flashed from patriot pen 
Startled the world, and vexed the royal ear. 
And, hke a message sent from Heaven to men. 
Illumed in eyes, unused to weep, the tear; 
The immortal scroll, which freemen still revere. 
And all mankind respect, — a trust that's thine 
And mine : betray it not, nor yield to fear, 



1 66 SELECT POEMS. 

But still make Freedom's cause a cause divine, 
And ever pure shall burn the flame that lights her 
shrine. 

XXVI. 

'Twas in those days that men of iron nerve 
Proved to the world their courage and their worth j 
And they were men whom threats nor gold could 

swerve 
From duty, — Nature's noblemen by birth, — 
Who in defence of life and cherished hearth, 
And altars burning bright with sacred fires, 
Poured out their blood upon the crimsoned earth, 
A free libation to their high desires, 
And love of right, which in the true heart ne'er 

expires. 

xxvii. 

And though but few, yet, resolute and strong. 
Our banded sires withstood the invading foe. 
And, 'neath their country's banner, struggled long, 
Led on through varied scenes of blood and woe, 
'Mid battle-smoke and cannon's fiery glow. 
By him whose gallant deeds were ne'er outdone. 
And who at Yorktown struck the final blow : 
Glorious as great the triumph . which was won 
For man, for freedom, and the land of Washington ! 



FREEDOM. 167 

xxvin. 

For human weal or woe, sublime the trust 
Reposed in those who rule our favored land. 
And yet temptations, such as spring from lust 
Of power, or love of fame, how few withstand ! 
How few whose virtues may not be unmanned ! 
But still there's hope in Freedom's sacred cause, 
While firmly leagued the sisterhood shall stand. 
And men bear sway who seek not vain applause, 
Nor pander to imbittered strife nor bloody wars. 

XXIX. 

In schools of learning scattered far and wide. 
And cherished fanes that skyward lift their spires, 
In zeal for truth that's based on virtue's pride. 
In brotherhood, and love, and pure desires. 
And generous hearts that burn with Freedom's fires, 
Consist our country's hope and future weal; 
And, while we bless the memory of our sires. 
For earth's oppressed still let us kindly feel, 
And speed the day when none to tyrant power shiU 
kneel. 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 17' 



NOTES. 



Note I. — Page 73. 

" Breathes of the past, 'tis consecrated ground." 
Mount Vernon, consecrated as the home of Washington, is 
pleasantly situated in the county of Fairfax, Virginia, on the 
south bank of the Potomac, and has an elevation of two hun- 
dred feet above the surface of the river, which at this point is 
two miles wide. • 

The old family mansion, which crowns the hill, was originally 
built by Washington's uncle, who gave it the name of " Mount 
Vernon" in honor of Admiral Vernon, under whom he had 
served in the British navy. 

Note 2. — Page 74. 

" Though but a lowly shrine." 

The object of the most intense interest to visitors at Mount 
Vernon is, of course, the tomb of Washington. It is situated 
in a lovely retreat on the hillside, and, though not seen from 
the river, is suddenly disclosed to view as you ascend the 
hill from the landing. 

This retired yet hallowed spot is sprinkled with wild flowers 
and shaded by the dark cedar and the stately oak, and was 



172 NOTES. 

selected, it is said, by Washington himself, for the purpose to 
which it has been appropriated. The tomb is of moderate 
dimensions and of plain exterior, constructed of brick, with an 
iron door of open-work, through which you can see in the inte- 
rior two marble sarcophagi arranged side by side, one of which 
contains the remains of George Washington, and the other those 
of Martha his wife. 

Note 3. — Page 74. 

" But turn where stands the hall 
In which the chieftain dwelt of yore." 

The Mount-Vernon estate still remains much as it was in 
the days of Washington. With a view to its preservation, it 
has been purchased by an association. It should belong to the 
nation. 

Note 4. — Page "]%. 
" Flung back from hill to hill with wild delight! " 

Mr. Sparks, in his " Life of Washington," remarks in refer- 
ence to the success of the American arms at the battle of Tren- 
ton, that " the despondency which had weighed heavily on the 
minds of the people was dispelled as by a charm, the martial 
spirit revived, and a new animation infused into the public 
councils." 

Note 5. — Page 79. 

" But now, from proflfered kingly crown, 
With scorn he turned away." 

A short time before the American army was disbanded at 
the close of the Revolution, a colonel in the service, "of a 
highly respectable character, and somewhat advanced in age," 



NOTES. 173 

as the agent of those engaged in the scheme, communicated to 
Gen. Washington a very flattering proposal to permit himself to 
be made king over the American people ; to which the general 
indignantly replied in the following characteristic letter, as noble 
and patriotic in sentiment as it is beautiful in style : — 

Newburg, 22 May, 17S2, 

Sir, — With a mixture of great surprise and astonishment, I have read with 
attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, no 
occurrence in the course of the war has given me more painful sensations than 
your information of there being such ideas existing in the army as you have 
expressed, and which I must view with abhorrence, and reprehend with severity. 
For the present, the communication of them will rest in my own bosom, unless 
some further agitation of the matter shall make a disclosure necessary. 

I am at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have given en- 
couragement to an address which to me seems big with the greatest mischiefs 
that can befall my country. If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, 
you could not have found a person to whom your schemes are more disagree- 
able. At the same time, in justice to my own feelings, I must add, that no 
man possesses a more sincere wish to see ample justice done to the army than 
I do; and as far as my power and influence, in a constitutional way, extend, 
they shall be employed to the utmost of my abilities to effect it, should there 
be any occasion. Let me conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your 
coiintry, concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to banish these 
thoughts from your mind, and never communicate, as from yourself or any 
one else, a sentiment of the like nature. 

I am, sir, &c., 

George Washington. 

Note 6. — Page 80. 

" How vain the lofty tower." 

Alluding to the Washington Monument in the city of Wash- 
ington. 



174 NOTES. 

Note 7. — Page 164. 
" The rock on which erst stepped the Pilgrim maid." 

Dr. Thacher, in his " History of the Town of Plymouth," 
states that, " ' The Mayflower ' having arrived in the harbor 
from Cape Cod, Mary Chilton entered the first, landing boat, 
and, looking forward, exclaimed, ' I will be the first to step on 
that rock!' Accordingly, when the boat approached, Mary 
Chilton was permitted to be the first from the boat who ap- 
peared on the rock." 



llmf},t^l ^^ CONGRESS 




